Little Wonders
by xfailingxheartbeatx
Summary: Dick has been kept in the dark for too long, but only after the death of a dear friend does he discover the truth: He has a son, Damian. Raising the brat will be hard enough, but protecting him from the League of Shadows? He may need to enlist some help. Daddy!Nightwing, Supportive!Team, eventual Bat!family.
1. Picking the Locks

Hello, all! Welcome to the debut of my new fic!

Besides me, did anyone of you when hearing about the DC reboot, go, 'Wait, no more Dick and Damian dynamic duo? _What!'_ I haven't read the comics with those two (although I want to), but I love the team they made almost as much as Bruce and Dick's. And I love how Dick ended up being more of a parent to his little bro while Batman was presumed dead.

I said to myself, 'That's so unfair, reboot! Dick is like Damian's father and now you're tearing them apart!' And my self said back, 'Well, why not just make him his actual father and get on with your life?' ...Thus, this was born. Okay, rant over now. In conclusion, this is my version of how Damian was introduced into the YJ universe.

So, enjoy the Daddy!Dick fluff with a side-order of plot! Since it is set Post-Invasion, it will probably turn out majorly AU. Oh, well. Anyone else as blown away by _Satisfaction _and _Darkest_ as me?

Disclaimer: I do not own anything DC related, Young Justice animated related, or anything famous. Thanks for reminding me, yet again, reality!

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_You don't raise heroes, you raise sons. If you treat them like sons, they'll turn out to be heroes, even if it's just in your own eyes - Walter Schirra Sr._

**_Prologue: Picking the Locks_**

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_"Guess who got you a present?" Zatanna pulled out the package hidden behind her back and handed it to the Boy Wonder with flourish. "Tada!"_

_Robin eyed the gift bemusedly._

_"Uh, Zee, isn't Wally the one with the 'souvenirs?'"_

_"Yeah, but I thought you'd appreciate the gesture." She shrugged, bright eyes twinkling. "Open it."_

_So he did, and the torn wrappings revealed an intricately designed box, smooth and unyielding beneath his touch._

_"It's a puzzle box," Robin stated wryly._

_"Exactly like you," Zatanna smirked. "Like it?"_

_"Love it," he replied. "How am I supposed to open it, though?"_

_"That's part of the puzzle," she explained with a wink. "Did I mention it's an _enchanted_ puzzle box, too?"_

_Robin laughed. "Gotta say, Zee, you do pick up the best gifts when you're gone for a year."_

_Her smile dampened just the slightest degree before perking back up again. "I had a lot of time to find something special."_

Then the memory receded, and Robin—now Nightwing, but still Dick Grayson—took that time to reflect. It had been almost four years since the day Zatanna presented him with the box. And he still couldn't figure out how to open the damn trinket.

He used to pester or complain about it to her, knowing that she found his continued struggle amusing, and that any attempt at bribery or blackmail wouldn't work. The friendly teasing was what made it fun, not the effort he put into the task.

But Zatanna wasn't here to enjoy the joke anymore. Because she'd died in the invasion.

That was months ago—though at the rate time ticked by, it felt like an eternity—but the scars had yet to fade. Her loss had hit Rocket, Artemis, and he worst of all; for they had been the closest to their original teammate. The only person who might've mourned more was her father. However, there was no way to tell how Zatara was taking it or if Dr. Fate even allowed him such awareness. Probably not, considering how devastating this news would be to his host.

She had not been the the only hero to perish in battle. Certainly, she wouldn't be the last. Batgirl, another of Dick's oldest friends, would never fight again. Not due to the loss of her life, but the unfortunate loss of her legs. And as for Bart Allen...nobody really knew what had happened to Bart. Dick liked to think that he was whole and happy somewhere, maybe back in his own time. Nevertheless, he knew this might not be true.

Theirs was an occupational hazard, after all.

Most days, Dick could tread onward in life without thoughts of the magician girl grazing his mind. He'd dealt with tragedy before, and all the mechanisms of grief felt like old friends at this point. Batman's return from the trial on Rimbor with an innocent verdict helped with the coping, as did keeping busy with the re-building of Mount Justice and team recuperation.

But some nights, when the melancholic memories of their lost comrades threatened to overwhelm him, Dick would pick up the memento Zatanna had given him back then and try again. Each attempt proved to be fruitless, but instead of having somebody to laugh about his failure with, it only increased his sense of worthlessness.

"Enchanted puzzle box, huh?" Dick laughed to the midnight sky, where no one else could hear the bittersweet sound of his sadness. "Lot of good that does when you're dead, Zee."

Suddenly, as if he'd spoken the magic words, the hinges that had eluded him for nearly three years popped open. Breath catching in the back of his throat, Dick stared at the contents of the chest. All that it stored was a neatly folded piece of paper. With careful fingers, he plucked it up and began to read.

_Dear Dick, _it began.

_If you're reading this, it means I'm gone. And if that's the case, I'm sorry for a number of reasons. That I hadn't lived longer. That you and our friends will grieve. That I never got to speak to my father one last time..._

_...Most of all, though, I'm sorry I never told you about our son._

Nightwing barely managed to catch himself before falling off the roof.

_A son? _...no, he couldn't have...with _Zatanna?!_ They had only ever been together that _one,_ single night...

Flashing back to those mandatory (which were less informative and more embarrassing) "Sex Ed" classes at Gotham Academy, Dick could still hear the instructor's know-it-all voice warning, _"Once is all it takes."_

Banishing the memory from his mind, Dick continued reading.

_It was years ago, Dick, and you were only sixteen. Way too young to be burdened with a child. Hell, I wasn't even ready for that kind of life-long responsibility. Between being a superhero and a teenage mother, I knew he was better off in the care of somebody more capable than I._

_I understand if you are angry with me, because you have every right to be. You were his father and you deserved to know. But every time I tried to tell you, my courage deserted me. So I leave you with this note, this sincere apology, in the humble hope that you can someday forgive a friend for her cowardice._

_Take care of yourself, Boy Wonder. Take care of our team, too._

_With all my love,_

_Zatanna_

_P.S. His name is Damian. He has your eyes._

Tearing his eyes away from the text, Dick's own blue eyes stared out over the horizon of Happy Harbor, lost in the shock of this unexpected news.

_I have a son. _The sentence ran through his mind a million times, unable to comprehend it._ I'm a father! For how many years I've had this child, and she never mentioned a word!_

Her assumptions were startling accurate. Dick felt it claw up through his twisting stomach and erupt at the peak of his throat: Raw, real anger. He was livid with the news, or more specifically, the fact that he was only learning of it now.

_Zatanna,_ he cursed inwardly, wishing he had the ability to revive the dead, if only to shoot these rapid-fire questions at her face: How could she? How could she ever keep something so monumental from him for so long? How could she _lie,_ or even keep her pregnancy hidden, for that matter?

That particular question left him reeling, the mounting indignation on the tip of his tongue spiraling down into the empty air beneath his dangling legs.

_Come to think of it, how did none of us notice? About three years ago, we were all still apart of the same team. One of our teammates being pregnant is a bit hard to miss...unless..._

The one year mission. Of course. _Of course._

No wonder she had brought him back the box. Guilt had a funny way of manifesting itself. Additionally, it was Zee's version of a failsafe; a box that would only open if she died. So that in the event that tragedy befell her, as it had, Dick would have a way to learn about the child they conceived.

Slowly, the once bubbling rage began to simmer. He was too confused for anger now, too lost in his own insecurity. Had she simply thought he wasn't father material? Had she truly so little faith in him that she assumed, what, he would try to skirt his responsibilities?

Which was the complete opposite of what Dick would've done. Sure, they hadn't been romantically involved since _that_ night, and their relationship had never exactly been what anyone would call 'exclusive.' But they were friends. Friends took care of each other through thick and thin.

Though the prospect of having a baby at that age—or having a baby _now, _even—seemed quite frightening, Dick could never turn away his own kid. Or any kid, really. His weakness had nothing to do with kryptonite and everything to do with his big, bleeding heart.

And it was crying out for a child he had never met.

_His name is Damian. He has your eyes. _

Really, what to do about that? Knowing he had a son somewhere in this world, probably abandoned in an orphanage, did _not_ sit well with Dick. Maybe it was because he had grown up with the exact same pain resting over his shoulders; the pain of being left alone after his parents' death, of feeling unwanted by the entire world. Being adopted by Bruce had helped lesson that ache, but it was still there, haunting the dark corners of his mind.

His son, on the other hand, had nobody. Or at least, that was what Dick was left to assume, because he had no idea how Damian was doing now! Zatanna's letter said he would be in good hands, but that was years ago. Was he still being taken care of well? Was he happy? Was he healthy?Could he be in danger? The uncertainty of her outdated reassurance made his skin crawl.

_Is this how all parents feel _all_ the time?_ Dick sighed. _I'm in way over my head._

Even as he thought it, however, his mind was made up.

Dick had to find his son and see him with his own two eyes. Just to be certain. Who knows? Perhaps the boy had found a secure and loving family to care for him as Dick Grayson had. And if that was the case, he wouldn't intrude. But if that _wasn't_ the case... Well, he could figure that out later.

At the moment, there were more important things to consider.

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Well, what'd you think? Good? Bad? Has potential?

I'm not exactly a Chalant fan, I'll admit. But out of all the females in Dick's life, I thought she would be the best fit for Damian's mother. *shrugs* And I know, I'm a terrible person. I like Zatanna, I do, but...she sort of needed to die for my plot to work.

Next chapter, we actually get to see the little devil—erm, I mean, _angelic_ gift from above. *avoids flying daggers courtesy of Damian muse* Right. So, stay tuned for that! And please leave a review!


	2. Finding Damian

A/N: Thank you to all who reviewed or are following this story! It's your kind words that keep me going. Hope you enjoy this next installment!

Disclaimer: Nope, I still do not own. Darn it.

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_**Finding Damian**_

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Determining Damian's location wasn't much of a hassle. Hacking the sealed files regarding Zatanna's one year mission and finding the only orphanage in the vicinity of that area was a piece of proverbial cake. Now. Getting to that location _undetected_ was going to be the real challenge.

Having learned from the best, Dick knew how to cover his trail efficiently. But when you learned from the best, it was exceedingly harder to fool them.

Luckily, Batman and the League were busy on a mission of their own, meaning Bruce would be too distracted to notice his absence if he justified it well enough. So, he developed a covert espionage mission that Nightwing would be working solo, and nobody would be none-the-wiser. With a promise from Tim that Robin would look after Bludhaven while he was gone, Nightwing left the Team in the capable joint custody of Conner and M'gann.

His next obstacle was transportation. Moreover, he didn't want to use any mode of transportation that might be traceable (Hey, when your mentor was the big, bad Bat, you tended to be adopt a healthy sense of paranoia). Once again, however, Dick's lucky stars seemed to be shining. There just so happened to be a friendly face in Boston, Massachusetts, which wasn't too long of a ride by bike. Despite the distance he had to drive, Dick smiled genuinely as he arrived at his destination. Besides Wayne Manor and Happy Harbor, it was the only place that truly felt like home.

The bright colors of the big top and the scent of sawdust reminded him that spirit of Haly's Circus was still alive and well.

"Long time no see, Mr. Haly," Dick said cheerfully, sneaking up behind the ringmaster, who startled at the sound of his voice.

"Dick!" Haly exclaimed jovially. The old man rushed over to envelope his surrogate grandson in a hug, a hug Dick heartily returned.

Mr. Haly ended the embrace with a broad grin. "Or should I say, 'Dan Danger?'" he quipped.

The last Flying Grayson laughed. "Nope, no undercover work today."

"On a vacation?"

"Something like that," Dick mumbled.

"What brings you here, then, son? I have a feeling this isn't just a social visit," Haly guessed.

Dick sheepishly scratched the back of his neck, busted. "I hear you're headed to France for your next performance."

"Yes, sir, that's the plan," Haly confirmed.

"Mind if I hitch a ride across the Atlantic?"

Jack Haly smirked thinly at the former circus star.

"I think that can be arranged."

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It was going to be a long trip, and with the anxiety already clawing up his throat like an anaconda snake, Dick decided to open up about his sudden fatherhood dilemma to the man who had been like a grandfather to him during his childhood. Although they didn't see each other frequently anymore, Haly was still family, and Dick trusted him to give good advice.

"So, I got this girl pregnant when I was fifteen and I never knew and she died in an accident a few months ago. Now I'm going find my long-lost son, but I'm still not entirely sure what I'm supposed to do from there," he blurted out in one, long breath. By the end of his rant, he was practically winded. "Nothing about this is aster."

To his credit, Jack Haly took digested all this information in stride. "What does Mr. Wayne think about all this?"

"I can't tell Bruce!" Dick protested, as if it was the most absurd suggestion he'd ever heard. In a more subdued voice, he added, "Not yet..."

Mr. Haly raised a scruffy eyebrow.

Sighing, Dick tried to explain. "He... Bruce has always taken great care of me. But I'm an adult now; I have to start taking care of myself. If I go running to him about this, I know he'll be disappointed. And he'll think I was irresponsible."

"Well, Dickie, you did get a girl pregnant. That _does_ make you irresponsible." Mr. Haly grinned. "But fifteen-year-olds are supposed to act that way."

"Not me," muttered Dick, and it was true, no matter how anyone might argue. Boy Wonders weren't supposed to be careless; that's what got friends killed and made mentors disappointed. And having Bruce be disappointed in him was one of the absolute worst feelings in the world.

Second to only, perhaps, discovering a son you never knew about.

Dick sighed again. "What do I do, Mr. Haly? Knowing he exists, I can't just leave him in the care of strangers... Unless, what if he's better off that way? What if I wouldn't be a good father?"

"Richard John Grayson," Haly began sternly. "Don't start having doubts about yourself. You know, your father was spouting the same sort of nonsense right before you were born. Must be genetic."

"My dad?" asked Dick in disbelief.

"Yep. Thought he'd be a fool of parent. The idiot was practically scared to death days before Mary was set to give birth." Mr. Haly rolled his eyes. "And you know what happened?"

Dick shook his head.

Haly's exasperated expression melted into one of fondness. "He took one look at you and fell in love."

Which made sense, sentimentally and biologically. Parents were programmed to love and protect their children from birth. But Damian wouldn't be a newborn baby. At this point, he was probably a toddler. Would it be the same? It certainly had not been so simple when Bruce first took him in when Dick was eight. Unsure of his his capabilities as a father, Bruce had kept his distance, reluctant to let anybody in. As a child, Dick had never understood why the mysterious Mr. Wayne had trouble accepting his abrupt appearance in the billionaire's life. Now, in the reversed role, he was starting to get it.

Seeing the turmoil on his face, Haly added in his last two cents, "Dickie, all parents are scared at first. I say, meet your boy before you make your decision. That's the best advice I can offer."

"Okay," Dick agreed half-heartedly. Haly placed a consoling hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, as far as I'm concerned, a great parent is somebody who will love their kid unconditionally will sacrifice anything to do what's best for him or her. Which is exactly what I know you'll do."

More than anything said thus far, that statement gave Dick the spark of confidence he'd been hoping for.

"Indulge me, though," Haly said seriously. "If you don't want to ask Wayne for help, how do you expect to support this kid if you plan on keeping him?"

Shrugging, Dick replied, "I guess I'll have to look for work."

"Aren't you taking college courses?"

_Among other things._

"A few, when I can spare the time. I'll have to rearrange my schedule somehow. I just... I want to prove that I can take care of Damian myself before I tell Bruce and my friends. Then maybe they'll see that I'm perfectly able to handle it without help."

"Can't do everything on your own, kiddo," Haly said sagely. Then, after a bit of inner debate, he handed Dick an envelope. "Here."

Dick blinked owlishly at the parcel and swiftly tore it open. Shockingly, it was the information to a bank account in his name.

"It's account your parents," Haly elaborated. "Nobody knows about it except me, because they made me the trustee. That way if anything ever happened to them, no matter where you ended up, you would have some money to fall back on. Your aunt and uncle had one for your cousin, too, but after the accident, your uncle made it so the bank then transferred that amount directly into your account. It's profited rather nice over the years."

"Mr. Haly, I..." Dick was at an utter loss.

"Take it, Dick. Your family would want you and your little one looked after." The ringmaster winked meaningfully at him. "Just promise to bring the kid here for a visit before you leave, alright?"

Throat too tight for all the words he wished to say, Dick simply smiled, hoping that the gesture conveyed everything that went unsaid. "Deal."

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The files Dick had hacked regarding Zatanna's mission placed Damian's probable location near a small village in southern France. It was secluded enough that there wasn't an airport even remotely nearby, so he was forced to travel by train.

_I guess she wanted him to be safe,_ Dick mused as he exited the station. _Out of sight, out of mind._

In a way, he understood. How many people would deliberately torture themselves by being constantly reminded of the child they gave up? In another way, a resentful part of him found that fitting.

A kind, elderly inn-keeper who only spoke French (which thankfully, Dick was partially fluent in) told him that there was a temple on the outskirts of the village that used to take in homeless children and give them sanctuary. They still did, she said, but lately only in _special_ cases. Intrigued, Dick tried to decode what she meant by that, yet the old crone merely shrugged and said he best be on his way.

Taking that as a hint that she knew nothing else, Dick paid her for trouble and trekked onward. After about fifteen minutes of walking, he arrived at a small area of meadow, on the edge of which lay a grassy hill. Sitting at the very top of this hill was the temple.

Making sure nobody was within sight, Dick slipped into a thick line of trees and unzipped his duffel bag, which unbeknownst to any ordinary passerby, contained his Nightwing costume inside. He'd had a lot of time to think this through on the train, and decided that if Zatanna had given birth to the boy as an undercover heroine, they might be expecting a superhero father.

Besides, it was much more dangerous for Dick Grayson to have a son with Zatanna than it was for her former colleague, Nightwing. Using his civilian identity would raise too many questions and could cause people to draw very dangerous conclusions. No, it was safer this way.

Inhaling deeply, Nightwing approached the temple entrance and gently knocked on the door. He waited a fair five minutes before receiving a response.

_"Bonjour?" _The large door opened to reveal a middle-aged monk, who was obviously unprepared for a superhero to be wrapping at his door; otherwise, he would not have jumped so high at the sight of a vigilante standing there.

_"Relax,"_ Nightwing placated in French, realizing what a start he'd given the poor man. Hearing his voice, the monk calmed somewhat, and after surveying his strange appearance, an unexpected comprehension dawned on the monk.

"Nightwing, is it?" he asked in English, through his thick native accent.

Surprised, Nightwing's eyebrows drew towards his hairline. "Have we met?"

"No, no," the monk shook his head. "Roughly three years ago, though, Ms. Zatarra _did_ mention you during her stay."

"Zatanna?" Nightwing muttered, the gears in his head cranking against one another. "Then you must know why I'm..."

The monk merely nodded, not needing him to finish. "Come in," he offered.

Nightwing nodded gratefully.

"You must be tried from your long journey," the monk spoke idly, as he led the young vigilante down a long corridor. "Can I get you any water, food, or other refreshments?"

"Thank you, but no," Nightwing declined. "I'd just like to see my...son."

Hearing the term leave his tongue was almost as surreal as saying it aloud. But he might as well get acquainted with using it now, because after this, there would be no turning back.

"As you wish," the monk replied. Another man, younger but clothed in an identical set of robes, approached Nightwing's guide and whispered something confidential in his ear. The first monk answered, "Yes, that will do. Summon Father Jaque to the young master's chambers. Tell him about our guest's arrival."

The young monk bowed, and then hurried off to obey his superior's order.

Observing how much room this temple truly had to offer, Nightwing began to wonder why there weren't any other orphans taking refuge here, or at least more monks wandering the halls. "Don't you take care of any other children?" he inquired innocently.

"Not at the moment, no," the monk said airily. "Which allows us to focus our full attention on the young master. He is exceedingly bright, and continues to show such promising potential."

As he stopped to open a particular door, a dagger came flying out in their direction, embedding itself in the wall behind them. Merely missing the pair of them by a narrow inch or so.

"I can see that," Nightwing choked, somewhat startled.

The monk chuckled, albiet sheepishly. "He's very advanced for his age."

_Advanced in what? The art of assassination? _mused Nightwing. Inside, his inner instincts were ringing with suspicion, but the importance of this moment carried too much precedence over his baser bat instincts.

"Master Damian?" the monk beckoned. "You have a visitor."

Nightwing peered into the room, searching for its single occupant. The room was barely furnished, and the light that filled it was provided by a dozen gleaming candlesticks. Half-obscured by shadows, the hero spotted a small figure with dark hair standing with his back to them, causing the bottom of his stomach to drop out from underneath him.

Just as he was wondering if it was too late to turn back, the child turned around and Nightwing was met with a pair of impossibly blue eyes.

Eyes that he saw every time he looked into a mirror—eyes that had once belonged to his mother. Now they also belonged to his son.

_"He took one look at you..." _Mr. Haly's earlier words regarding his dilemma faded in, the truth of them finally understood. And in that terrible moment of conflicting emotions, Dick knew with absolute certainty what course of action he was going to take. Seeing his own child here, alone, how could he ever think to leave his boy behind?

Suddenly, Dick's internal doubts and insecurities didn't matter anymore. His decision was clear. Damian would be coming home with him.


	3. Homeward Bound

Wow, everyone! (: I was a little wary of posting my last chapter, thinking it wasn't my best, but then I got such a great response from it! I'm glad you all liked it! So I worked extra hard to finish this one early, and I hope you enjoy it, too!

Disclaimer: Still own nada.

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**_Homeward Bound_**

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Nightwing was considered by many to be a natural born leader. He had lived life in the spotlight since the day he could walk and basked in the glow of an audience. People have said that he had gift with words and used them with admirable eloquence. He had talked adversaries into alliances, calmed threats with gentle words, ended arguments with his sharp tongue, and led his friends into battle with speeches of bravery and hope.

Yet as he stood in this temple, in the presence of a single toddler and a monk, Nightwing was completely tongue-tied. So many things ached to emerge from his mouth, while so many other wished to remain unspoken. Feeling awkward and afraid under the attention of those big blue eyes, all of his natural charisma fled, leaving him with a hollow hole in the pit of his stomach.

"Hi, Damian..." Nightwing began, for lack of a better phrase. "I'm..."

Seeing him falter, the monk finished his sentence, "This man is your father, Damian."

Damian blinked back at them uninterestedly. Nightwing pondered if the information just given meant anything to the little boy. Or if he even cared. Deep down, however, he knew it didn't matter. Damian was still young enough that his view of people was based on familiarity. As soon as the two of them spent more time together, the boy would start to recognize him as his father; maybe he would eventually call him "Dad." The thought filled Nightwing with a giddiness he did not quite comprehend, but liked nonetheless.

"Thank you for taking such good care of him for so long," Nightwing thanked profusely, turning to the monk aside of him. He meant every word, too. "I hope I can do as great a job myself, once I get him back home."

His words incited a strange reaction from the holy man.

"Why would you wish to do that?" the monk asked, attempting to sound logical about it. "Young Damian has dwelled here his entire life. There is no shame in leaving him in a place you know he will be better provided for."

Nightwing didn't like what this monk seemed to be implying.

"Yeah, well, _I'm_ his father, so that's for me to decide," he reminded coolly.

Realizing his mistake, the monk hastened to amend himself, "Pardon me, sir, I meant no disrespect. Only that given your perilous lifestyle, perhaps it is best if the boy remains in the care of people who can completely devote themselves to his upbringing."

"If it's for my son's sake, I think I'll be able to manage," Nightwing replied. His gaze darted over to where his son was, surprised to see that Damian seemed very intrigued by their dissent. A kid with who loved a good quarrel. Great. He would fit in well with the rest of the team.

"This is unwise," the monk exclaimed, obviously frustrated at this point. "You are diverging from the path of his destiny!"

"And just what destiny is that, huh?" Nightwing demanded, getting right up in the monk's reddened face.

"Is there anything I can assist you with, sir?" a new voice gracefully intercepted, ending their altercation immediately. Nightwing swiveled around to see who it was, subconsciously placing himself in between Damian and this newcomer. It was the head monk, Father Jaque.

"Actually, there is. Gather all my son's possessions. I'll be taking him home with me," he said authoritatively. Rather than being met with opposition, though, this holy man was much more amicable.

"Of course, sir. As Damian's father, it is well within your rights to relocate him wherever and whenever you please," Father Jaque acquiesced. "I shall personally go prepare his luggage," he added with a small bow.

"Thank you for understanding," Nightwing bowed in return. He shot a warning glance at the other monk, daring him to argue, but the man stared straight ahead, ignoring his presence entirely. _That's what I thought,_ he mused scathingly.

"Hey, Damian," Nightwing crooned, his demeanor shifting instantly as he crouched down to address the boy directly. "Ready to go?"

Although Damian obviously had indistinguishable feelings about this meeting, he seemed to understand what Dick was saying. And much to the new father's joy and surprise, his son didn't protest as he carried him out the door, content to leave his life at the temple behind. It wasn't love at first sight, no, but it was certainly a start.

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As soon as the vigilante departed with their former charge, the monk who had boldly opposed this decision spun at his superior in confusion.

"Father Jaque, I do not understand, why did you let him leave with the—"

_Smack._

The monk stumbled backwards in a daze, taken aback by the sudden slap to his cheek.

"Fool," Father Jaque hissed. "You nearly spoke too much."

The holy man Nightwing had thought to be so courteous, appeasing, and mild-mannered had a few secrets of his own apparently.

"Forgive me," the monk groveled. Barring his teeth in anger, he seethed, "I grew frustrated with that Nightwing's insistence!" His irritation morphed into genuine worry. "This isn't what was foreseen."

"No, it is not," Father Jaque sighed. "I fear that when the invasion came, it brought a multitude of unexpected events, most relevant to us being the premature death of his mother. She must have left some sort of message regarding the boy in her will. That's how the hero found us."

"What shall we do, then?"

"Fate has taken it out of our hands," Father Jaque relayed unexpectedly, his eyes averted towards the younger monk from before, who was sprinting in their direction. "Ah, Marquis. Have you brought the communication device?"

"Yes, Father. He is on the line," said Marquis breathlessly.

Father Jaque quietly prayed, "May God have mercy on our souls, for we have failed the task our master bestowed upon us," while the two lingering monks nodded in solemn agreement. Then, Father Jaque took the communication device and held it up to his ear.

_"Sir. I regret to inform you of this, but the boy has been relocated... Yes, I am afraid so. By Nightwing. His father."_

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"Well, it's nothing fancy," Dick declared as they entered his Bludhaven apartment.

Damian made a little noise that sounded like "Tt." Dick supposed that that meant he agreed.

To be fair, it really wasn't very extravagant. Certainly nothing compared to the beautifully-crafted walls of the temple that Damian was accustomed to. If anything, Dick was glad he had persuaded himself into buying a two-bedroom apartment. In hindsight, it turned out to be a smart investment, because now he had a place for Damian to sleep.

Which reminded him of the lengthy list of items he would need to procure for his son: a bed, a toothbrush, clothing, toys, a night-light (was Damian even scared of the dark, as Dick had been at that age?), and other miscellaneous room furnishings. Nevertheless, the shopping spree could be postponed until tomorrow. The trip home had been anything but easy—especially with Damian in tow—and frankly, Dick was _exhausted._

So, Damian would just have to suffer through a night sleeping in bed with his dear old dad. Dick vaguely recalled reading something about how a mother's heartbeat often soothed babies to sleep and it strengthened the bond between them. Additionally, it reminded Dick of another item he might want to consider—parenting books. Sure, it sounded silly, but Dick knew that Bruce had his own stash hidden somewhere in the manor, a fact that only he and Alfred were privy to. And since Bruce did a decent job of raising Dick, he assumed they contained _some_ advice that might be useful.

"Come on, kiddo," he called to Damian, who was fiddling with the television set, examining the remote as if he'd never seen one before. His fascination made Dick chuckle. "Time for bed."

The young vigilante went to ruffle his son's dark hair. Damian snubbed the action as if Dick's hand was a disease, ducking away to avoid it. Dick paused, his hand suspended in midair, wondering why his gesture had been refused. And that's when the realization hit like a ton of bricks.

His son had been raised by monks. Kind but aloof monks, who probably saw the task of raising Damian as a teacher would view the challenge of mentoring a student. Nothing more. Given these circumstances, it was likely they'd never shown the toddler any real affection.

This sad revelation filled Dick with a renewed sense of regret. He hadn't been there to provide that oh-so-important love and human contact. He had failed his son, exactly like he tended to fail everyone who meant a lot to him. Trembling with such self-loathing it physically hurt, Dick gave in to his newly discovered paternal urges and enveloped Damian in a hug.

"I'm so sorry, buddy," he whispered into the unruly raven locks, resting his cheek there. "Sorry I wasn't there for you from the beginning. But I'll be here from now on, no matter what. I promise."

Shortly thereafter, almost amusingly, Damian wriggled out of the embrace like an irritated kitten. Hair mussed and scowling in a way that no toddler should be able to, he totted off towards his room. Sighing, Dick watched him go and winced at the sound of the door slamming shut. Yikes.

Okay, well. The kid was still a little rough around the edges. They had only known each other for a day—that was to be expected. Dick would just have to work on smoothing out their relationship. And that meant giving Damian his full focus.

His current situation reminded him of something Bruce had said when little Dick had first entered the billionaire's life: _There's going to a lot of changes and it may take time to adjust. But it will get better. I promise._

And it had. It truly had. Remembering that fact brought Dick the confidence and hope he needed to conquer the newest obstacle life had decided to hurl at him. He glanced at the closed door his stubborn son lay beyond in determination.

Adjusting was just something they would have to work on together.

* * *

So many questions in this chapter: Who was on the other line of Father Jaque's call? Will Dick and Damian get off on the right foot? And who else might me be meeting in the next chapter? Press the button down below, and you'll be sure to find out! ;)


	4. Lose Some, Win Some

Here's another chapter done. Only because I am one of the lucky residents of the East Coast whose power wasn't cruelly ripped away by Hurricane Sandy. It flickered a few times, and for a while I thought my house might blow away, but we were unscathed. My heart goes out to those who weren't.

Disclaimer: Nope. No ownership for me.

* * *

**_Lose Some, Win Some_**

**_. _**

**_._**

**_._**

**_._**

_Shopping,_ Dick's inner voice bemoaned, _is not nearly as fun as it used to be._

Outwardly, he tried not to let his deflated spirits show. After a long morning of buying, ordering, and keeping Damian in line, Dick was starting to wonder how stay-at-home parents did this on a regular basis. Dick was quite certain he would rather be out fighting villains than picking out kid-friendly shampoos.

Seriously. How many brands of body wash did there _need_ to be?

Rolling the cart towards the next check out station, Dick saw a bored-looking saleslady looking like she had nothing better to do besides slouch there and snap her gum. Which gave him a _brilliant_ idea.

"Excuse me?" he called, tearing the woman away from her celebrity magazine.

"Yes?" she answered.

Dick pasted on his most charming smile. "Sorry to bother you, Miss, I'm just about ready to check out—only I forgot something, and my son here, well, he's pretty anxious and ready to leave. Would you mind watching him a moment for me?"

"Of course," she nodded, looking more than happy to do it. "You leave it to me."

"Thank you very much." Plucking Damian from the seat in the front of the cart, he swung his son onto the check out counter. "Stay with the saleslady, son. Okay? Daddy will be back soon."

"Tt," Damian said, which Dick translated as, "Whatever."

Figuring that was his cue to leave, Dick waved goodbye and wheeled the cart away. Left alone together, the saleslady turned her full attention onto her newly appointed charge.

"Well, aren't you just the cutest wittle thing in the world?" she crooned obnoxiously. "What do they call you, hun?"

"Damian," the toddler replied, crossing his arms.

The saleslady seemed impervious to his curtness, though, mistaking it for shyness. "Aww, that's adorable. Can you tell me how old you are, too?"

"Yes," Damian snarled, as if she shouldn't have even asked. What dolt didn't even know their own age?

"Does you wanna tell me what it is?" she prodded.

"No," he said shortly.

"Hey, what's up, buddy?" asked Dick upon his return, recognizing the look on his son's face to be irritation.

"Fat lady asked stupid question," Damian exlpained, pointing at finger at the woman accusingly.

The saleslady let out an affronted squawk.

Dick swiftly retrieved his unashamedly rude child and plopped him back into the cart. "Uh, we'll just pay for these at the front," he said sheepishly, making a clean escape. _I really, really shouldn't have asked..._

As soon as they were a safe distance away, Dick sighed at his son.

"How come those words are in your vocabulary, while the word _please_ alludes you?" He shook his head. "Damn monks."

"Damn," Damian reiterated.

Dick nearly cursed again, catching himself at the last minute. Instead, he merely groaned. "Figures."

* * *

To be fair, the boy wasn't _all_ bad. A little rough around the edges, but not a complete terror.

Okay, so he didn't take too well to being woken up without warning and bent Dick's tumb back a little farther than it was supposed to go. Damian also reacted negatively to Dick's attempt at washing his face, a task that had to be accomplished one way or another, even if that meant losing an eye to the brat's good aim (Artemis and Roy would be proud). Then there was the fact that the imp had bitten Dick at least three times this morning.

He chose to assume that that meant his son was hungry.

Apparently, the monks had raised Damian on a strictly organic diet derived from their garden, along with meat from the outdoor livestock. So, encouraging him to eat healthy wasn't a problem. Just getting him to eat _anything else._

"Come on, Damian. Kids love _Cheerios," _Dick urged, sitting across from his son's newly bought booster seat.

Damian stared at the dry cereal defiantly. The boy had grudgingly split half a grapefruit with Dick (he really needed to re-stock his fridge later, there was barely anything edible left) but he wasn't certain if that was enough.

"Look, I'll eat it," he motivated, popping one into his mouth. "Mmm, yum. See?"

Unimpressed, Damian stuck up his nose at the snack. Dick sighed in defeat. Maybe the kid was full already? Releasing him from his booster seat, Damian leapt down onto the floor and wandered over to the window.

By the time Dick had cleared away the mess from lunch, Damian was still there, nose pressed flat against the glass. Their apartment was cozy, sure, but the boy must be used to a huge temple filled with vast halls and spacious grounds. Perhaps the rapid change had him feeling a bit trapped, Dick realized.

"Feeling pent up, huh?" An acrobat by nature, he knew the need to be active and move around very well. Looks like they'd finally found some common ground. "How about a trip to the park?"

Damian perked at the prospect of going outside. Having made a breakthrough, Dick wasted no time and began preparing his son for the outing. Hopefully, if all went well, their relationship might start to improve.

At least, that's what Dick had been optimistically thinking when they came to the chore of putting on shoes, which was met with Damian's defiant glare.

_Here we go again._

* * *

The fresh, crisp air of the outside world alleviated some of the stress weighing down on Dick's chest. Even Damian, comfortably seated in his new stroller, seemed more at ease.

Right as they reached the playground area, somebody's shoulder bumped into his; a woman with a stroller of her own, who had distractedly rolled too close to the curb. Dick used his weight to keep their balance and keep her from stumbling.

"Oh, excuse me!" she cried. She was a short, ragged-looking redhead who might've been about five years older than Dick himself. Faded freckles dotted her face, while chestnut brown eyes peered at him in apology.

"It's no problem," Dick accepted. Damian, on the other hand, seemed a bit miffed at the intrusion.

"Sorry. I guess I should be more careful." The woman chuckled good-naturedly. "My name's Jenna Wilkes. This is my son, Colin."

She pointed to the stroller, where a red-headed child peered up at them curiously. Dick waved at him, a gesture the little boy returned, albeit shyly. Damian simply stared at the new child contemplatively.

"I'm Richard. My son's name is Damian," Dick introduced.

"Aw, he's adorable," Jenna cooed, despite Damian's obvious displeasure at being called such. "How old is he?"

Damian rolled his eyes.

"He'll be three pretty soon," Dick said fondly, ignoring his son's gesture.

"Colin's that age, too," she added, smiling.

That's when his second brilliant idea of the day struck. If Damian was ever going to learn how to be sociable with other children, the playground was definitely the place to gain some practice. And through some marvelous twist of coincidence and fate, the perfect opportunity had presented itself.

"Damian, why don't you go play with Colin?" Damian stared at his father as if he'd grown a second head.

"Oh yes, go ahead," agreed Jenna, unstrapping her son from the stroller. "We'll watch you from over here."

_"I have to?"_ Damian muttered under his breath, and Dick was tempted to let him off the hook, remembering how his last bright idea ended. In the end, though, he nodded an affirmative.

So with high hopes in mind, he watched his son and Colin toddle towards the sandbox. Everything would go fine.

...Maybe.

* * *

"Hi," Colin chirped. "I'm—"

"I know," snapped Damian. His mother had already introduced the two of them, after all.

However, Colin seemed unaffected by his attitude. "Oh," was all he said, with this silly little smile on his face. "Right."

Was_ this kid stupid?_ Damian thought. _Or simply that naive? _Clearly, he was not an exemplary choice in a playmate. He was more likely to stick another kid's head in the sand than hand them a shover.

Yet Colin still smiled that stupid smile, looking at him in a way only his so-called _Daddy_ did, a way the monks at the temple never had.

"So...wanna play?" the red-headed boy asked at last.

"No," Damian snorted. Regardless, he followed Colin to the sandbox. It wasn't as if he had anything better to do.

Colin began building a sandcastle, so Damian began re-inforcing it with a fortress made of small twigs and stones. Things were actually going well, until out of nowhere, a boot-covered foot smashed down on all their hard work.

Damian growled low in the back of his throat. The lily-livered Colin yelped and looked at their attacker fearfully. The boy was bigger than them, wearing a mean smirk and glowering like hyena that had cornered its prey. Basically, a bully.

"Hey, babies," he guffawed, examining at the remnants of their ruined castle. "Should've used better sand, huh?"

At that moment, the only thing Damian regretted was not using sharper twigs.

While Colin cowered behind him, he assessed the aggressor with calculating eyes. Five-years-old. Short. Stocky. Underdeveloped motor skills. Easily misplaced balance.

Tt. Child's play.

Noticing his gaze, the older kid marched up to him and demanded snottily, "What are you looking at?"

Slowly, Damian stood, the glare in his baby blue eyes a dangerous thing to behold.

The bully never had a chance.

* * *

Meanwhile, Dick and Jenna were engaged in conversation.

"So," she began idly. "Must be rough handling a little boy that age on your own."

Dick blinked back the shock of that statement; after all, she hadn't asked if he was raising Damian alone. She had deduced it. Huh. Here Dick was under the impression that _he_ was the world's second greatest detective.

"How'd you know?"

Jenna's smile was not unkind. "Single parents can spot each other pretty well. The bags under your eyes say it all. It's a hard gig to handle solo."

He laughed a little. "It's rough, yeah, especially just starting out. I've only recently gained custody of Damian." This reminded Dick of something else he had been meaning to find out. "I have off from work now, so I can stay with him during the day, but I will have to go back soon. Do you recommend any daycares in the area?"

She pondered it for a brief moment. "Actually, I take Colin to a place they run right out of the Bludhaven Youth Centre. The people are nice, the care is great, and the price is easy on the wallet. You should check it out," Jenna suggested.

Dick grinned graciously. "Thanks, I think I will."

Just then, a shrill cry pierced the air, and both of them turned in time to see a child about two years Damian and Colin's senior fall to the ground in tears. Colin was watching the scene with awe, while Damian, clearly the perpetrator, looked on impassively.

"Did he just push that other boy?" Jenna gasped.

"It's a habit I'm trying to break," Dick muttered long-sufferingly. "Excuse me."

Although their trip the the park ended with him dragging Damian away from the scene by the scruff of his neck, Colin waved goodbye as they left, and though much less enthusiastically, Damian did the same.

All in all, Dick called _Operation Interaction_ a success.

* * *

For those of you who don't know, Colin Wilkes (Abuse) is a character from the Batman comics and a friend to Damian (Robin V). Their friendship is so cute, I wish it was portrayed more. In the comics, Colin is an orphan, but I gave him a mother here. Different universe, different rules, right?

Also, to those of you who wanted to see Damian meeting the Team, I'm afraid that won't happen for another three chapters. I just want him and Dick to establish a real bond together before I shove everyone else into the mix. Sorry! Hopefully, I'll make it worth the wait!

And to get you psyched for next chapter, and possibly in a reviewing mood, there will be another Bat!clan member introduced in the next installment. So, stay tuned for that!


	5. Forging Bonds

Sorry this chapter took so long, guys. I had a research paper and a one hour presentation to do this past week to keep my busy. _Damn school._ Plus, I've begun expanding my range of characters in this story, so I hope you enjoy the new additions! Remember, this is an AU, so it's my vision of what the post-Invasion YJ might be like. I hope you all enjoy!

Disclaimer: If I owned Young Justice, we wouldn't be waiting until January for new episodes. Stupid television networks.

* * *

**_Forging Bonds_**

**_. _**

**_._**

**_._**

**_._**

"I am sorry to hear about your house burning down, Mr... Grayson, is it? Yes, it is very unfortunate. I hope you and your son have a temporary place to stay," the woman at the City Records office said in response to Dick's sympathetic story.

"Yeah, we're doing well, all things considered," he lied convincingly. "I'll just sleep better knowing I have a new copy of his birth certificate."

"Of course." She nodded. "So, is this your full name? And the mother's?"

Dick confirmed, "Yes."

"Alright. And this is the correct birth date?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Then all I need is his full name."

Dick paused at that. He'd had this entire sham planned out in his head prior to coming here to get his son a certified birth certificate, but he had never even thought about what Damian's full name would be. Should it be an ode to Zatanna's father? Damian _Zatarra?_ Mmm, maybe not. An ode to his? Damian _John?_ But no, that was Dick's middle name, and he wanted Damian to have something different. Something all his own. Names were important. They mattered in the long run, and Dick wanted his son's name to mean something more than just a few letters strung together.

"Mr. Grayson?" the woman prompted. "Your son's full name, please?"

_A name that means something..._

Finally, Dick came to a decision.

"Damian Wayne Grayson."

* * *

It was a quiet afternoon at the rebuilt Mount Justice. They had no active missions, no crisis to avert. Peace was in the air, and the teenagers stationed at the mountain were more than willing to take advantage of this fact. Robin, Jaime, and Gar were currently bound for the Happy Harbor arcade.

"Keep up, Gar!" Robin called, waiting as the younger boy came running down the hall.

"I'm coming!" Gar answered, poised to morph into a cheetah just to show these sloths how fast he could go, but a familiar green hand leapt out of nowhere and grabbed him first.

"Oh, no," M'gann said sternly. "You're not going anywhere, not when I know for a fact that your math homework isn't done yet."

The green boy groaned, "Aw, but, sis—"

"Sorry, guys," she cut off, smiling apologetically at Robin and Blue. "Gar has homework to finish. Right?"

Gar's fuzzy ears wilted in defeat.

"Have fun, ese," Jaime snickered sarcastically.

"Megs, why'd you have to do that?" Gar groaned when they left, glaring at his sister in embarrassment.

"I wouldn't have had to if you would have started it yesterday," M'gann pointed out. "Now go. The quicker you do it, the quicker you can be done."

Sighing, Gar relented and morosely moved towards his room. He cut through the kitchen on the way, intent on grabbing a snack—who could possibly learn math on an empty stomach?—when he spotted _her_ on the couch, reading a book, as usual.

She was a light grey-skinned, violet haired girl with dark, intense eyes; the depths of which seemed like they could suck in your very soul if you looked too long. She kept to herself, except when she deemed it necessary to speak, which wasn't often. When she did, though, her voice held the same quiet intensity that her eyes did.

Her name was Raven, but besides that, Gar didn't know a goddamn thing about her. _Nobody_ did.

Months ago, in the heart of the Invasion, they had fought against Klarion and his magical goons. Zatanna had been a part of that fight, he remembered... Anyway, at some point, Nightwing had gotten separated from the rest of them and ended up in quite the predicament. He might not have survived, he claimed, if it wasn't for the Raven's intervention.

Ultimately, she chose to change her allegiance and help Nightwing and the rest of them, even though she had been aligned with Klarion at the time. For protection, she said, as much as she loathed serving the melodramatic witch boy (though she never mentioned _what_ she needed protection from). Sometimes, Gar wondered if Nightwing was right when he recruited her to the Team afterwards.

Granted, she had never done anything to him personally, unless you count refusing to laugh at his jokes (the good ones, too!) or ignoring his attempts to make idle conversation.

But Raven was, well, what was the word? Unapproachable. Creepy. Anti-social. Even now, she was sitting there by herself, reading one of her dark magic books that smelled like ancient civilizations to Gar's sensitive nose.

"Hey, Gar," an unexpected voice said right next to his ear.

"Ah!" he yelped. Then he saw who the intruder was. "Really, Nightwing? _Why?_ Do you take pleasure in scaring the crap out of people?"

"Maybe," Nightwing teased.

"Noted," Gar smiled, pleased to have his older teammate home, safe and sound. "Back from you mission? How did it go?"

"That's classified," he said secretively, to which Gar laughed.

"So, what're you doing, kid?" Nightwing inquired, changing the subject. "Scrutinizing the newbie?"

Gar flushed. "Uh, no, not really-"

"Why don't you go strike up a conversation with her, instead of just standing here staring?"

The green boy gaped at Nightwing as if he'd grown a second head. "Are you kidding?"

"It might make her feel more welcome," Nightwing continued, confirming his seriousness.

"But she doesn't go out of her way for _us."_

"To be fair, you haven't really been trying, either."

"Well, that's because it's no use! If I try, it will only be in vain!" Gar argued.

"You won't know that _unless_ you try." Nightwing sighed. "Not everything in life comes easily, Gar, friendship included. Occasionally, a little extra effort is needed to see some results."

"Noted," the green boy huffed. "Fine! I'll go talk to her. But it won't make a difference!"

"We'll see," Nightwing chuckled, watching as Beast Boy morphed into a hummingbird and flitted away.

* * *

Gar returned to his human-primate form as soon as he reached the couch. Raven barely batted an eye at his entrance, nor did she make any attempt to acknowledge his arrival.

_Figures,_ the green boy sighed. _Guess it's up to me._

Pasting on his best smile, he hopped in front of her with a cheery, "Hi, Raven!"

Silence.

_Strike one._

"So... Whatchya reading?" he asked.

"A book."

_Strike two. _

He rolled his eyes. "Duh. I mean, is it a mystery? Adventure? Please, don't say it's _Twilight."_

Raven glared over the top of her book. "It's a book about magic. Spells. I'm trying to _learn,"_ she emphasized, clearly implying that he wasn't a part of that process.

Gar snorted. "Why? From what I've seen, your black magic already packs a pretty mean punch."

"There's always room for improvement," she said dismissively, flipping another page.

_Strike three. I'm out!_

"Geez, I'm giving you a compliment here! The least you could do was accept it!"

"Who asked you to?" she bit back.

And that was the last straw.

"Fine!" Gar threw up his hands in frustration. "I try to be nice, but obviously, you don't need me here, so why bother?" He turned to leave, ready to wash his hands of the matter entirely.

_"Wait."_

Gar stopped dead in his tracks. He hadn't been expecting her voice to sound so _fragile._

But by the time he turned around, the mask was back in place, betraying the emotion that had laced her tone not a moment ago.

"I'm sorry," Raven apologized, closing the book, allowing him a full view of her conflicted expression. "I'm not very good with...people, per se."

Gar scoffed. That was the understatement of the century.

Silence reigned between them, until all the tension in the room came to a boiling point with a single, soft question.

"Do I scare you?"

Gar gulped.

_The truth? Sometimes._

"No," the young shapeshifter said aloud. "I mean, sure, you have some creepy qualities, but all in all you seem to be a good person."

Raven averted her eyes. "So, I'm creepy..."

"Erm," he floundered, cursing his word choice. "Yeah, I guess, or no— Just, compared to the rest of us, you're not exactly a happy camper."

"Well, the only company I've had for a long time was Klarion, and he wasn't exactly a barrel full of laughs. And I absolutely abhor his cat," said Raven resentfully.

"Dude, me too! That evil furball gets on my nerves!" Gar blurted out.

"At least you never had to clean the damn thing's litter box," she muttered in disgust.

Gar gaped. "He didn't."

"He did."

"Bastard," he cursed, grinning while he said it. Funnily enough, that line sent them both into an unexpected fit of laughter.

When the giggles nearly subsided, Gar realized that this was the first time he'd ever heard Raven's laugh. To be honest, it was rather nice, especially knowing that it wasn't freely given. Having been the person to finally draw it out of her filled him with pride.

"Hey, we do have something in common," he remarked, referring to their mutual dislike of Teekl.

"Surprise, surprise," she said dryly.

Once again, the silence threatened to penetrate their conversation. Gar had to break it before it was too late. If the quietness seeped in now, she might return to her shell, and his chance would be gone. It was now or never. The moment of truth. He took a deep breath.

"So... Pizza?"

Raven rose an eyebrow in puzzlement. "Pizza?"

"Pizza," Gar confirmed. "You and me. Veggie toppings _only._ And you'll have to pay half, because I spent most of my allowance on video games."

Her eyes blinked at him incomprehensively. "Is this an invitation to do that 'hanging out' thing?"

"Yep. Oh, we should go see a movie, too!" Grudgingly, he added, "Come one, I'll even let you choose the flick."

Raven perked at that, but still seemed unsure whether this was an elaborate joke or not. Suspiciously, she asked, "Whichever one I want?"

"Cross my heart," swore Gar. She searched his face with those deeply perceptive eyes, and he was proud to report that he didn't look away.

"Alright," she agreed at last, satisfied. Inwardly, the green boy whooped for joy.

While Gar did not completely know what he was getting himself into, he knew something for certain: Seeing a genuine smile curl across Raven's face was definitely worth the extra effort.

* * *

Nightwing smirked silently to himself as he watched Gar and Raven's interaction play out, pleased to see his plan work perfectly. After the recent problems life had been catapulting in his direction, he was due for a few victories.

Speaking of problems.

His son was smart. Of that, there was no doubt. Crafty, too. Dick found himself torn between being proud or exasperated.

Because like many gifted children, Damian was naturally curious. Curiosity often killed the proverbial cat, or in this case, that curious kitty's father. In all seriousness, Dick was getting tired of waking up in the morning to find his child out of bed and perched in some precarious position. He won't go into specifics, but let's just say that for the sake of his blood pressure, it needed to stop. Minor heart-attacks every morning couldn't be good for a young man's health.

So to keep his little prodigy from wandering, Dick did the only thing he could think of and took the tot to bed with him. Not that Damian made that easy for him, either. Luckily, Dick was a lot stronger than his son when it came to size and his hold was inescapable. Eventually, the little tot would have no choice but to surrender to the realm of slumber. The next morning, Damian would then take great pleasure in slapping his father awake.

If anything, he certainly had a knack for revenge.

Combine that with the child's tendency disobey authority figures, and the end product was a rebel with too many tricks up his sleeve. Therefore, Dick had not anticipated good news from Damian's daycare, especially when one of the sitters asked to speak privately with him before they went home.

Likewise, Mrs. Norris seemed less than happy to be having this conversation.

"Mr. Grayson, it's been his first week and he's already hit, pushed, stolen from, and _spit_ at some of the other children, as well as the instructors," she informed. "That behavior is not tolerated."

As if he wasn't aware of that fact already.

Dick chuckled sheepishly.

"Uh, I know." He flashed his patented _I'm-so-dashing-please-forgive-me _smile that usually won over old cranks even. "We're working on it, I swear."

"Then I expect to see some improvement," she said brusquely, unaffected by his charm. Dick deflated as the sour-faced crone departed. _Geez,_ _I thought Bruce was a hardass._

"Damian, couldn't you at least try to get along with other kids for Daddy's sake?" he asked aloud. There was no response, not even an irritated "Tt." Dick glanced down to where his son _should_ have been standing, only to find the area devoid of Damian.

"Damian?" he called. Instantaneous terror lodged in his throat. "Where'd you go, buddy? Damian!"

"Yo!" a feminine voice answered.

Whirling around, Dick nearly sagged in relief. There, struggling in the clutches of a blonde girl who looked to be about Tim's age, was Damian. Safe and sound.

"Does this belong to you?" the girl asked, smirking.

"Unhand me!" Damian huffed, struggling to escape her grip.

"Unfortunately," Dick quipped. She deposited Damian into his arms, and the young father held him a little closer than was necessary. "Don't run off like that, Damian," he scolded sternly. The firmness of his tone actually ceased his son's squirming.

Dick sent the girl a gracious beam. "Thank you so much for finding him."

"No biggie. I _do _work here," she winked, sending Damian a wry smile. "This kid of yours is a real menace, by the way."

"Not by inheritance, I assure you." He ruffled the dark locks of hair atop his son's head. "Still trying to get his bad behavior sorted out."

The girl sniggered. "Just tell Mommy to cut down on his sugar intake, so maybe he won't have so much energy. They're always easiest when they're asleep."

"Actually, he doesn't much care for sweets," Dick remarked, before clarifying, "and he doesn't have a mother."

Her playful smile faltered. "I see," she said, somewhat sadly. "Well, I'll keep an extra special eye on the little devil for you, then."

The corners of Dick's mouth curled up. "I appreciate that."

The girl held out a hand. "Anyway, I'm Stephanie Brown. Call me Steph."

"Richard Grayson. Call me Dick," he answered, shaking the offered hand.

Steph's eyes widened. "You wouldn't happen to be _the_ Richard Grayson, would you?" Her expression became coy. "As in the adopted son of Gotham's most eligible playboy _billionaire_ Bruce Wayne?"

Dick sweatdropped. _Damn. Should've known better. Should've used an alias. _"Nope, sorry, wrong guy," he said swiftly.

"Riiight." Steph snorted. "Like I wouldn't recognize that pretty boy face. Don't worry, I won't ruin your reputation. But if you're a Gotham native like me, you may as well be the Prince of England."

"Good thing I relocated." He grinned. "Are you a secret celebrity, too?"

Steph shrugged enigmatically. "Just needed a change of scenery. At least that's what Mom said after Dad got thrown in jail."

Frowning, Dick felt a touch of sympathy for the girl. "I'm sorry," he said sincerely.

"Nah, I brought it up, so it's cool," Steph deflected. She reached out to ruffle Damian's hair, much to the boy's irritation. "So don't worry, I know how to handle a troublemaker like this little guy."

"I bet," Dick snorted. This girl didn't seem the type to take crap from anyone. "Thanks, again."

"No prob. Bye, Dami," Steph cooed, pinching his cheek. In retaliation, Damian snarled and swatted the hand away.

Dick laughed as they departed, feeling infinitely better than he had when he arrived.

"See, Damian? That wasn't too hard. We just made a new friend."

Damian snorted. "Could have done better."

* * *

Yes, I added Stephanie Brown, aka Spoiler and later Batgirl III. Her and Dick are totally bros, so I wanted to incorporate that here. Don't worry, she'll be meeting with the Team soon, including Tim. *wink wink*

Hopefully, this chapter, we can hit 50 reviews! I'll admit, it's nice to come home from a long day of mind-numbing education to an email full of alerts. I love reading each and every one of yours lovely responses, so thank you, and keep it up! 'Till next time~


	6. Tough Love

Wow, people! When a girl gives you people a challenge, you really rise to meet it! Last chapter I got a great slew of responses, and in thanks, I give you this chapter, in the humble hope that it meets your expectations(:

**Sleuthy: **I agree that Dick taking Damian may have been hasty, and that's probably due to poor writing on my part. My only thought was that Damian is only two—three-years-old, and from my experience, kids that age don't really comprehend the whole concept of custody. I understand your point now, though, and I didn't mean for Dick to come across so dispassionately. But thank you for bringing it to my attention.

**Cirruz The Night Elf: **Aw, thanks! It's nice to have story _and_ my grammar skills complimented, since my English teacher never seems to do the latter.

**ShoshonaTheRose: **Thanks for the review! Dick not telling the family about Damian yet is complicated, and I'll go more in-depth with it in the story, but remember that this is post-Invasion and things are pretty shaky within the hero community right now. I hope that helps!

**roy23: **Thank you, I had hoped readers would enjoy the Gar/Rae scene, I loved writing it. In regards to Jason, he won't be making an appearance in the next few chapters, but he will be soon!

**nequam-tenshi: **Thank you, I try to keep little Damian as in character as possible, even if that means making him a brat(: And yes, we'll be seeing Cassandra Cain soon, too.

Also, big thanks to** Guest, Keepmovingforward **(love your username!), **A, CHALANT FTW, NINJA BUNNY, jordylilly777, Guest that reads, Red Shade43, RasalynnLynx, Lord Makura, swifty13izme, Abbie-As-Sue.29, Airmage, Yjkidflashfanatic1299, YellowTigger, beef taco, ricestalk-2004, Dextra2, ScienceImagineGreater **(your review was so flattering, sorry I didn't reply sooner!), **Poseidon'sdaughter3, RememberTheMuse, Kickarora, Month4, and pokerfacedcat **for reviewing thus far.

Disclaimer: Nope, pretty sure I still don't own.

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**_Tough Love_**

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"Well, isn't this a treat?" Poison Ivy practically purred. "My darling specimens versus Cadmus's favorite little experiment."

Superboy felt the rage well within his veins, but didn't take the bait. The last place he wanted to blow a fuse was Gotham National Bank. Besides, the only reason Ivy was bothering to taunt him was because she was cornered and outmatch, and it was a last-ditch effort to distract him and make a mistake. However, Superboy had been in the hero business for—well, for as long as he'd been alive, actually.

"Give it up, lady." He took on an offensive stance, preparing for the fight to come. "Take the easy way out and we'll call it a day."

In all the time he had been a hero, Superboy learned that they never chose the easy way out.

"That's what you think," she hissed, when from out of the darkness, a net of wire shot out, entrapping her within a net of wire. Ivy fell to the floor in a heap, shrieking in anger and defeat.

"That's a wrap, Ivy," Nightwing announced, flipping onto the scene with flourish.

"Bird boy," she muttered loathingly, giving her bonds an experimental tug. Of course, they were inescapable. "What a pleasant surprise."

"Perfect timing as always," said a smirking Superboy.

"I try my best," Nightwing parroted. "Where's the rest of the Team?"

"Cleaning up her little plant friends," he replied, jerking a thumb in the eco-friendly villainess's direction.

Ivy snarled, "They're destroying my _babies."_

Superboy seemed nonplussed by her accusations. "Whatever." He turned to his friend of five years and deadpanned, "Care to lend a hand?"

Nightwing's smirk matched his tone in dryness. "Well, it's not the most glamorous part of the job, but..." Glancing at the digital clock outside the bank, he inwardly swore. "On second thought, I've got to go. Think you can handle the rest of this without me?"

"We'll manage," Superboy nodded. "Why in such a rush?"

"Previously made appointment. I'm unable to cancel."

"Sure. Take care, alright?"

Nightwing forced a sluggish smile. He must really look ragged if even Superboy was offering advice. Between training with the Team, patrolling his city, taking care of Damian, all while straining to keep his schedule harmonious enough so that it fell below Batman's radar (although Bruce had been rather busy as of late, but his distance was not without reason—the Invasion had taken quite the toll on everyone, and Batman was dealing with it as best he could, which meant burying himself in his work. For Dick, it meant engrossing himself in Damian's upbringing), he was beginning to feel a bit stretched.

But true to his Grayson blood, Nightwing planned to grin and bear the weight of his responsibilities—and true to his Batclan roots, he sought to bear it on his own.

With a salute to Superboy, Nightwing bellowed out a sincere "Will do!" before disappearing into the shadows once more.

* * *

Mrs. Norris, the stuffy woman who ran the daycare at Bludhaven's Youth Centre, looked particularly displeased with Dick today. Before he even entered the building, he could tell he was in for a good scolding, judging by the hour.

"Mr. Grayson, we don't tolerate this sort of lateness, especially not three days in a row. Unless you can be punctual in your pick-ups from now on, I'm afraid you'll have to find another sitter service. One with more flexible hours."

_Sorry, _Dick grumbled. _ Just doing my job. Saving the free world, you know._

A tug at his shirt tore Dick's from his inner misgivings.

"What's up?" he asked his son.

"Steph is sad," Damian whispered in his ear. Dick eyebrows rose sky high. His little boy was a lot more perceptive that he let on, it appeared.

"Is that so?" he murmured, watching the blonde girl closely now. Come to think it of, Steph usually greeted him as he walked through the door, and Dick had become accustomed to their daily chats about whatever happened to be on their minds. The two of them had become fast friends. Today, though, Steph didn't even acknowledge his presence, preoccupied with the task of cleaning up the children's toys. She gazed at them in...longing? Regret? Dick couldn't quite pinpoint the exact emotion from where he stood. But Damian was right. She sure did seem sad.

"Fancy seeing you here, Richard," a familiar voice chirped, tearing Dick away from his observations. He smiled when he saw who it was.

"Oh. Hey, Jenna." Another new friend he'd made as of late. "Hi, Colin."

Shyly, Colin smiled. "Hi, Damian," he waved.

"Hello, Colin," said Damian, much to his father's joy.

"Well, I came over to ask," Jenna began, shifting the child in her arms, "Colin and I were just about to go get some ice cream before heading home, and he asked if his friend Damian could come along. I said we had to ask his daddy first."

Dick's heart all but melted at the hopeful look on little Colin's face. Damian was lucky to have such a great friend. Even as he opened his mouth to agree, however, his thoughts were drawn back to the morose blonde girl, who also looked in need of some companionship.

"I...actually have something to take care of quick. I'm sure Damian would like to go, though, if that's okay with you. I know it's a lot to ask, but—"

"Nonsense," Jenna waved. "I'm happy to help. Just take care of whatever you need to. Damian will be fine with us."

For once, Damian didn't have any protests about being handed off to anyone else besides his father. As soon as they left, Dick crossed the room and tapped the blonde girl on the shoulder, greeting her with a grin and a casual, "Hey, Steph."

"Oh, hey," she blinked, as if just noticing him. "How are you, Dick?"

"Fine," he replied. "Yourself?"

A small, forced smile touched her lips. "Peachy," Steph mumbled.

"Now, we both know that's not true," Dick remarked kindly. "What's wrong, huh? Anything you want to get off your chest?"

"Nothing whatsoever," she deflected, but he had not become the world's second greatest detective by chance.

"Spill, Steph," Dick advised. "If Damian's perceptive enough to pick up on your mood, there's no way to hide it from me."

"Let me rephrase: It's nothing you need to be concerned about," she brushed off. "You should get Damian and—"

"Damian's having a playdate right now," Dick interjected, "so I've got plenty of time for a heart-to-heart."

The blonde girl pursed her lips together, clearly torn.

"We're friends, Steph aren't we?" he cajoled. "You can talk to me."

Finally, Steph sighed. "I'm officially off-duty in four minutes," she admitted. "But Mrs. Norris can stuff it where the sun don't shine. Come on, we'll go to the roof."

* * *

Dick whistled. "Man... From all the way up here, the city almost looks beautiful. Funny what a simple change of perspective can do."

Steph didn't answer. She took a seat at the edge of the rooftop, curled her legs up to her chest, and stared out at the Bludhaven skyline. Dick took that as his cue to sit down beside of her.

"Alright. Are to ready to tell me what's wrong?"

"Today's sort of an anniversary for me," said Steph slowly. "A day I don't particularly like to remember, but I can't very well avoid it, especially not today..."

"Steph," he cut in soothingly, to cease her rambling, "would you like to share what happened?"

Obviously, she did. Yet as Dick was about learn, some things weren't easy to explain.

"A year ago today, I gave birth to a baby.

"What?" Dick's whisper of disbelief came unbidden. "Steph, you're sixteen-years-old, if that!"

Her cheeks flushed indignantly.

"And how old when you had Damian?" she demanded. "I can do the math, Einstein."

Now it was Dick's turn to flush.

"Sorry, Steph. You, uh, caught me off guard there." Silence ensued. "Hey," he said gently, nudging her arm. "I'm still listening."

Once he said that, Steph's internal battle seemed to end. Her outer walls were cracked, and the floodgates came bursting open.

"It was a girl. I gave her up." Confessing it caused her to curl in on herself further. "My life was messy enough already, and I didn't see a reason to bring an innocent baby into it, too." Steph frowned. "Afterwards, I found myself dragged down by the...guilt? Regret? I'm not sure. All I know is that I could barely get out of bed for days. So, Mom sent me to a counselor to deal."

"Did it help?" asked Dick tentatively.

"The lady said that coming to the center and being around kids would help fill the void so I could cope with my 'grief.' Which it does, surprisingly." She snorted, "First time a shrink has ever been useful."

Uncertain of how to breach the sensitive subject, Dick quietly inquired, "And the baby's father?"

"Ex-boyfriend. Jerk ran off before the kid was even born," she said scornfully.

"I'm sorry."

Steph shook her head. "I'm better off."

"Good. He obviously didn't deserve you," Dick declared firmly. "Have you ever thought about visiting her?"

"Who?"

"Your daughter."

"Are you _kidding?"_ When Dick showed no signs of joking, she shrugged despondently. "Besides, she's only a year old. It won't even matter."

But it _did,_ it mattered more than she would ever know. Dick would give anything to have been there for Damian from the very beginning, to have witnessed his first steps, heard his first words, and all the other firsts that he could never get back. In a way, it _was_ like dealing with grief. Not from the loss of life, but a terrible loss nonetheless.

"Trust me," he advised, clapping her on the shoulder. "It will in the long run."

Steph chewed her lower lip, unconvinced. "I don't have any idea who adopted her—"

"I can find out," Dick offered. The corners of his mouth quirked mischievously. "Did I ever mention that I boast some pretty mean hacking skills?"

A slim, blonde eyebrow rose in his direction. "Oh? I assumed you set a sterling example of goodness for your son to follow."

"Can't corrupt him any more than he already is," Dick quipped.

"Point taken," Steph conceded. Reluctantly, a genuine smile tugged at her lips.

"Okay," she suddenly declared. "Tell you what. I'll make you a proposition."

Raising an eyebrow, Dick indicated that he was still listening.

"You're a busy man, which is why you're always late and why Mrs. Norris hates your guts. So, here's the deal. I'll babysit your demon spawn after-hours, no charge, if you teach me martial arts."

Dick couldn't have looked more surprised if someone had just told him that Lex Luthor had been elected president.

"Oh, yeah?" he asked, taken aback. "Why so keen on learning?"

"Sorry, I don't give spoilers." She smirked. "Not yet, anyway."

Meanwhile, Dick considered Steph's proposition carefully. He had never mentored anybody outside of the hero community, never taught anybody the skills Batman had bestowed upon him without Bruce knowing about it. Doing this would mean going against his mentor's wishes, the idea of which made his stomach churn with the rest of the secrets he'd been keeping lately.

But then Dick looked over at Steph again, meeting her steely blue gaze with his own. He saw a girl driven by ambition, who needed an outlet for her pain, but who lacked any adult guidance. Even if he said no, it wouldn't deter her in the slightest. Left unchecked, she could take the wrong path in life, and Dick would be damned if he let another precious young life through his fingers. Not if he could help it.

Therefore, he said, "Deal."

* * *

Needless to say, Dick had spent more time on the rooftop with Steph than he'd originally planned. Damian had not been happy to arrive home later than usual; nor was he pleased with Dick's spur-of-the-moment dinner arrangement. Seriously, what kid _wasn't_ ecstatic to eat mac n' cheese for supper?

...Three nights in a row.

Anyway, it meant dealing with a particularly cranky toddler; while Dick usually took his fits in stride, he was plainly exhausted by the day's events and in no mood to deal with Damian's outrage when he refused to let the boy play with his toys, saying that he needed a bath before bed.

Accustomed to receiving anything his heart desired on a whim, Damian did _not_ like being denied. But Dick knew that being a parent didn't always mean being fun; sometimes, a man had to put his foot down. And Damian deliberately knocking over vase that sent glass shards all over the floor, endangering _himself_ in the process, was where Dick drew the line.

"That's enough!" he raised his voice, hoisting his son up to eye level. "You're going to behave, young man, or it's going to be a long night."

Damian met his gaze challengingly.

Stern as stone, Dick placed his son in the playpen set up against the wall. Damian hated the poor excuse for a prison and let his displeasure be known rather loudly. Busy with clearing away the mess of glass, Dick tried ignore it, but it seemed the more he tried, the more persistent his son's shouts became.

"Have you learned your lesson yet?" he questioned. His only answer was another angry screech. "Well, then. You can stay in there a little longer, I think."

Without another word, Dick went into his adjacent bedroom, keeping the door ajar in case his son really needed him.

_Tough love,_ he reminded, even as he felt close to cracking under the sound of his son's cries. _If he won't respond to tenderness, maybe this will get through to him. Or at least teach him that he can't get his own way all the time. He just has to learn..._

Adamant on his decision, Dick determinedly ignored the tantrum going on in the other room. Blessedly, the noise faded to a dull thrum after about ten minutes, and eventually died out completely. Still, Dick didn't move. He could hear the sounds of the tiny feet clamoring out of the playpen, which did not surprise him in the slightest. Finally, he saw his son appear at the door, eyes red and puffy and his mouth drawn into a taut line.

Dick quickly put his laptop aside. "Hey, kiddo," he said softly. "Wear yourself out?"

Damian remained silent as he approached the bed.

Sighing, Dick resigned himself to the nightly battle of wills over bedtime.

But instead of the usual routine, Damian held his arms out expectantly. Dick blinked. Damian stared back and waited for his father to take the hint.

Stunned by this drastic change in behavior, Dick didn't hesitate to cuddle his son close and settled down for the night. With a small sigh of contentment, Damian actually _snuggled_ into the embrace and promptly fell asleep, exhausted by his earlier tantrum.

Dumbstruck, Dick simply laid there, listening to the rise and fall of the toddler's chest. He was used to going to bed in this position, but never because Damian had initiated the contact, and the change in their dynamic brought a bright smile to Dick's lips.

"Goodnight, son," he whispered, pressing a light kiss to his son's brow, before drifting into the realm of sleep.

* * *

So, the part about Steph having a baby and giving it up for adoption? That's comic canon. I thought it worth mentioning because it gives her and Dick a sort of understanding between them. Plus, I just loved writing their interaction, it was so touching. I wish Dick was my superhero mentor. Or my dad, for that matter(:

In closing, I have one last thing to say: One more chapter after this, and it will be the big reveal to the Team and everyone else! I know a lot of you want to see it, so I'll try to make the wait as quick as possible. Everyone have a Happy Thanksgiving!


	7. Dog Days Are Over

Have I mentioned how absolutely _amazing_ you all are? I'm not sure I have, because last chapter did not only exceed my expectations, but it also received the most reviews ever! And as always, your responses were all so positive and flattering! I was so inspired that I got to work on this chapter straight away, although due to homework and technical difficulties, it did not come out quite as quickly as I had hoped. Sorry about that! But it is finally _fin,_ so please enjoy!

Thanks to** Guest, Neko Ninja Hezza, CHALANT FTW, I-Am-My-Own-Biggest-Mystery, roy23, The Goddess of Percabeth, RasalynnLynx, Guest that reads, Keepmovingforward, PrincessPorsha, Airmage, Cirruz The Night Elf, S.M. Carseas, Lord Makura, nequam-tenshi, swifty13izme, Poseidon'sdaughter3, Dextra2, Red Shade42, NIGHTWING EpIcNeSs, Abbie-As-Sue.29 **who reviewed last chapter!

Disclaimer: Never have I ever owned anything.

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_**Dogs Days Are Over**_

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Dick returned from another tiresome day of work to the welcoming sight of home. It was late, and as glad as he was to see his son and his sitter awake and getting along, it meant that Damian was going to need to be put to bed by him. Which meant using what little energy he had left.

"Look, Dami! Daddy's home!" cooed Steph.

"Shouldn't he be in bed?" asked Dick long-sufferingly.

"He should. Sadly, Mr. Damian is stubbornly refusing to sleep, isn't he?" She sighed. "I resorted to singing a lullaby."

"Bad singer!" Damian accused, to which Steph stuck her tongue out.

"Alright, _kids,"_ Dick intervened, sending the teenager a pointed look. "Ms. Brown, it seems your services are no longer required; therefore, you may retire for the evening."

"Of course, sir, and what an honor it's been babysitting your brat," she said with an exaggerated bow.

Her employer smiled. "Sure you don't want a ride home?"

"I'm fine. If anything happens, I'll just put some of your self-defense moves to good use, won't I?" Steph smirked. "Don't forget, we have a lesson tomorrow afternoon."

Dick groaned, the weariness in his bones having intensified at her words. "Have I mentioned how _wonderfully_ you're progressing in your martial arts studies? In fact, I think we could skip tomorrow's lesson."

"Funny, Mr. Grayson. But we both know I'm not that good. Yet." Moving towards the door, she waved, "Goodnight, Dami. See you, Dick!"

"Bye, Steph. Thanks, again." He sighed softly as he heard the door close, sinking into the cushions of his couch.

His moment of respite was shattered by a small body landing on his abdomen.

_"Oof!"_ he grunted, glaring at the toddler perched upon his stomach. "And how may I help you?"

"Can't sleep," Damian announced, crossing his arms in defiance. It would have been more convincing if this statement hadn't been punctuated by a yawn.

"Well, I sure could," Dick claimed languidly. "But Daddy's been busy fighting crime."

His son contemplated that for a while, before nodding decisively. "I do it, then. You go sleep." Dick smirked.

"Oh, yeah? Think you can do a better job than me, squirt?" he demanded wryly.

"Yes," Damian replied without hesitation.

Dick chuckled, ruffling the darks locks atop his boy's head. "Maybe someday, son. For now, let's focus on getting you to sleep," he declared, hefting the boy into his arms. He laid Damian down in his own bed, tucked him in nice and snug, pondering what might work.

_What helped me sleep when I was young? My mother's singing usually did the trick..._

"No singing," Damian objected, as if reading his thoughts.

"Okay," Dick assented. What else, then? What had he used after his parents' death, when the nightmares were plentiful, and Bruce hadn't been there to curl up next to and protect him from the horrible memories...

And that's when the idea struck. "Stay here," he ordered Damian, before going into his room and making a beeline for his closet. In the back of it were some unpacked boxes of things he'd brought with him from his days at Wayne Manor. Digging through the first one he found, Dick grinned when he caught sight of it: a small, slightly worn Batman plushie.

Shortly after he had learned his elusive guardian's greatest secret, the nights were still sometimes filled with visions of terror and darkness. And being Batman, Bruce wasn't always at home to offer his ward the comfort he never denied. Dick didn't want to be a baby and beg his adopted father to stay—besides, he wasn't _selfish,_ he knew what Batman did and why it was important—but as the sleepless nights increased, so did the temptation to do just that. That's when Alfred devised a solution. He took out some cloth and an old sewing machine and made the young master his own little protector.

Bruce had originally disliked the toy, embarrassed by the likeness it held to his alter ego. But Dick had grown very attached to the darn thing, and his mentor hadn't the heart to force his young ward to part with his version of a 'security blanket'. He'd always had a hunch that Alfred had snuck it into his luggage when he moved out of the manor. Now, Dick was glad he'd held onto it. For purely sentimental reasons, of course.

Re-entering his son's room, Dick held up the toy in triumph. "This is Batman," he presented, shrugging sheepishly. "Sort of."

"Batman?" Damian blinked, poking at the plushie.

"Yeah, Batman. Haven't you ever heard of him?" It suddenly occurred to Dick that his life as Nightwing and his life as Damian's father had yet to converged. Probably because he was trying to give his son a normal life away from the world of evil and violence that Nightwing dealt with every day.

"He's a hero," he elaborated proudly. "That means he fights bad guys, protects the weak and innocent, and keeps the streets of Gotham safe. As a matter of fact, Batman taught your dad everything he knows."

_"You're_ a hero?" Dick pretended that the note of disbelief in his son's tone was a result of his tired imagination.

"I am. Isn't that aster?"

_"Aster?"_

"Aster, as in, the opposite of disaster?" Dick clucked, "What did those monks teach you for two and a half years?"

Dubiously, Damian accepted the plushie from his father's grasp. "Daddy fight, too?" he asked, looking very intrigued.

His father nodded. "That's right, kiddo. Daddy and Batman used to fight crime together all the time when I was younger. They called us the dynamic duo." Which gave him another novel idea. "Want to hear some of those stories? Maybe they'll help you sleep."

"Stories. Yes," Damian insisted, curling in close; to his father's amusement, he was still clutching the Batman plushie, and looked like he had no intention of parting with it anytime soon.

"Alright," acquiesced Dick, settling down beside his son. Where to begin? _At the beginning, I suppose._ "Once, there was a boy—a family, actually, who lived and performed at Haly's Circus. They were called the Flying Graysons..."

* * *

Both of them slept peacefully that night, and in the morning, Dick didn't think twice about dropping his son off at daycare with Colin and Steph. He gave his son a hug goodbye, ignoring the way Damian protested the public display of affection. Then he headed to Mouth Justice. It was was near midday when Mal received a call from Barbara, who due to her recent handicap, was doing her part by scanning for trouble over the police network.

"Oncoming alert from the authorities," Barbara's voice intoned. "Nightwing, you'll want to hear this."

Stiffening, Nightwing went to stand between Superboy and Mal at the computer.

"There's a hostage situation at the Bludhaven Youth Center."

Nightwing's heart skipped a precious beat. _Damian. God, no...!_

"How many hostages?" asked Superboy, unaware of his friend's inner turmoil.

"At least a dozen. Most of them children," Barbara informed gravely.

"I'm going," Nightwing declared, bustling past his teammates. That's when a strong but feminine hand gripped his wrist.

"Whoa, without back-up?" Wondergirl demanded, who was at the Cave due to a day off school. She offered him a small smirk. "Hang tight, Wingman. I'll come with."

But Nightwing was in no mood for smiles or pep talks. He needed to move. _Now._

"Then hurry," he ordered brusquely, wrenching his arm out of her hold. His other teammates watched, slightly stunned, as he stormed off and a puzzled Cassie chased after him.

"Geez, what's got into him?" Bumblebee blinked.

"Bludhaven's his city," reminded Superboy. "He's probably just worried."

"A room full of innocent children trapped inside a building with a group of madmen? We're all worried," Mal added.

Yet none of their fears could even hold a candle to Nightwing's, who was too intent on flying to Bludhaven as fast as physically possible to wonder what a scene he must've just made.

_Hold on, Damian. __Daddy's on his way._

* * *

Stephanie Brown didn't have much experience in the hero business, unless dealing with Cluemaster counted (and since he was her own lousy father, and a lousy villain at that, she doubted it did). But she was proud to say that despite this, she didn't panic when she heard the sound of a gunshot going off in the daycare room, which was a mere ten feet from where she stood. Instead, she grabbed Damian (whom she had been escorting to the bathroom) and ducked out of the way, just in case they decided to point the gun in their direction next.

When it seemed they were safe, Steph let out a slow breath, still clutching a frazzled Damian to her chest.

"Geez, I step out of the room for one minute and all hell breaks loose," she muttered, running a shaking hand through her blonde hair.

"Stand back!" she could hear one of the thugs yelling out the window, presumably at the police. _A hostage situation,_ she assessed. _God, what could be worse?_ "Come any closer and these kiddies are gonna be in real trouble!"

Those words caused Steph to see red.

"Oh, no," she growled. "They aren't laying a hand on those babies if I can help it!"

Not missing a beat, Steph took Damian into a nearby room, where her and the other employees stored their possessions while they worked. Confirming that the perimeter was secure, she wasted no time in locating her locker, procuring her duffel bag from inside, and tearing out the brand new costume hidden with it.

She sighed, "Well, this is as good a time as any to introduce my new persona."

Digging into her backpack, she unveiled an eggplant-colored outfit, complete with cape and mask. She donned it all and transformed herself into a heroine.

"Steph!" Damian whispered, not fooled by her disguise.

"Not today, Dami," she corrected, smirking behind her mask. "Say hello to Spoiler."

Without waiting for his reply, she picked Damian up and held him close. There was no way she was going to leave him here unattended, but she couldn't very well fight to the best of her abilities with only one hand, could she? Thinking resourcefully, Spoiler used her cape to make a sling and placed him inside.

"Stick close, okay?" she ordered sternly, strictly forbidding him to wriggle and risk falling out.

For his part, Damian looked distressed by this whole ordeal; she watched as his apprehensive eyes peered at the room where the hostages were being held.

"Colin?" he asked quietly.

"We're going to save him and the rest," Spoiler assured. And she damn well meant it, too. Taking a deep breath, she asked, "Ready?"

He nodded, clinging to the front of her costume with balled up fists. She almost didn't hear his very soft, very childlike whisper of, "Nightwing?"

Spoiler froze. Children cried out for their parents in times of peril, she knew. It was fact. It was normal. And Steph, despite her record of bad decisions in life, was not stupid. Nor was she oblivious to Mr. Grayson's long hours, his extensive knowledge of martial arts, or the soldier stance she saw him take every day before heading out the door.

Mrs. Brown hadn't raised an unobservant idiot. So instead of acting confused or denying it, Spolier gave the boy's shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"He's coming, buddy," she promised. "I know it."

And with that, Damian calmed. His infallible trust in this single being—his father—gave Steph the fortitude she so greatly needed right now.

_Hurry up, Dick,_ Spoiler urged. Then in one swift, fluid movement she kicked in the door and prepared for the battle to come.

* * *

On the way to Bludhaven, Barbara gave Nightwing and Wondergirl an overview of the situation. A team of thugs had robbed a local bank, but hadn't been quick enough in their escape, and were subsequently chased by police. Apparently, they decided that they had a better chance of getting out of this mess with their money and their lives if they had a little more _leverage_.

Unfortunately, they happened to be nearby the Youth Center when this brainstorm struck, which is why they currently had twelve kids and two adults hostage, while the rest of the building had been evacuated. They were demanding a clean getaway with no police interference; otherwise, the kiddies would be in real trouble.

_Like hell,_ Nightwing snarled, yet he forced his mind to calm. He couldn't help his son if he wasn't thinking clearly.

"Let us handle this," he told the police captain, Amy Rohrbach, after arriving on scene. She had worked with both Nightwing and Richard Grayson before and was a trusted ally. With her blessing, he dragged Wondegirl aside, already formulating a plan.

"There's a vent that leads right into the daycare room."

"How do you know that?" Wondergirl questioned. Nightwing didn't have time to concoct a lie, so he simply ignored her inquiry altogether.

"Anyway, we can use that to our advantage. All we need is the element of surprise to take down these men. You ready?" When she nodded, he led her into the building and they climbed into the nearest ventilation entrance; hacking into the building's schematics, Nightwing pinpointed the vent they were searching for. When they found it, it was conveniently hovering atop one of the thug's unsuspecting head. Wondergirl grinned eagerly.

"On three," he mouthed to her. "One, two, _three."_

Without warning, Wondergirl smashed through the vent and into the robber underneath it, clobbering him to the floor. Nightwing leapt down after her.

Simultaneously, the door to the daycare room burst open, knocked down by a very determined foot. Before the robbers could aim their weapons at the newcomer, Nightwing charged the one closest to him and delivered a sharp kick to the stomach, which sent him flying across the room. The person who'd kicked open the door attacked the nearest robber, and with a little more effort, effectively took down the thug. Nightwing examined this newcomer curiously.

Dressed in an purple costume with a hood covering her face was a heroine he had never seen before; but what truly caught his attention was the child cradled to her chest. A boy with bright blue eyes. _Damian._ Nightwing's heart sank with relief.

In the midst of all the action, he heard Wondergirl ask, "Who are you supposed to be?"

"Spoiler's the name. Spoiling is my game," the heroine quipped in an all-too familiar voice.

_Steph? Oh, Lord. Self-defense classes my ass. _He would definitely be having a serious talk with her later on.

Nevertheless, the fight waged on, and Nightwing was proud to see that his student didn't do too bad. He and Wondergirl ordered her to the sidelines to protect the innocents, while they took care of the remaining thugs. For experienced heroes like them, it was over in a matter of minutes.

"That the last of them?" he gasped, trying to catch his breath, which for some reason proved difficult.

"Looks like it," affirmed Wondergirl. She appraised Steph again and said, "Not bad, newbie."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Spoiler retorted, and sound of their easy banter gave Nightwing the sudden urge to laugh.

Until the adrenaline fueling his fight abruptly drained away, leaving him slightly dazed and disoriented. Nightwing tried to keep himself upright, because this was still a crime scene, a scene filled with terrified children no less, but his body did not seem willing to comply.

Wondergirl took the initiative and began evacuating the kids from the room, sending them into the arms of helpful officers or frantic parents, until all that remained was Steph and Damian. When Wondergirl attempted to remove him from her grasp, however, the little boy slapped her hands away.

"Damian, kiddo, come on," Steph pleaded, shooting covert glances at him, confirming to Nightwing that_ she knew_. Batman would be _thrilled_ to hear about that. If Nightwing ever got the chance to tell him, for with the room swaying as it was, he could barely muster the energy to speak, let alone order his son to do as the girls said...

He had to move, though, answer Wondergirl's confused calls or Steph's increasingly frequent glances. Ignoring the empty feeling in the pit of his stomach, Nightwing pitched himself forward, only to have his knees buckle beneath him. In that moment, his eyes locked with those of the little boy's, and although his own were covered by a mask, there was no mistaking that the toddler knew exactly who he was.

"No!" Damian cried for his father, wrestling out of Spoiler's arms and bolting towards him on tiny legs.

Nightwing's vision was swirling, a painted picture of light and sound, darkness looming nearby, ebbing at the edges. His son's voice was the last thing he heard, and although he tried to reply, to assure Damian that everything would be alright, the eager blackness swallowed him whole before he had the chance.

_"Daddy!"_

* * *

I know, I'm evil for leaving it there, but dramatic effect is important, yes? *avoids flying vegetables* Well, I guess if you're the writer...

However, I plan to hopefully have the next chapter out by Monday, so the wait won't be terribly long. And that's when we'll see the actual reactions of some Team/League members. Until then, read, enjoy, and review~


	8. Wake Up Call

I'm **so** sorry about this chapter being later than I promised! Real life got in the way. I still feel bad, though, because I was so overwhelmed by the response I got for the last one. 110 reviews for only seven chapters? You people rock! :D Also, I apologize for any mistakes, as this chapter was finished with haste. I might come back and revise...Thank you to **everyone** who reviewed last chapter!

Disclaimer: Never owned, never will.

* * *

**_Wake Up Call_**

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When Dick awoke, it was to an unsettling sense of peace. For a moment, he forgot about the hostage situation and Spoiler and his son. He simply laid flat against the bed he'd been placed on, somewhere between the realm of slumber and consciousness, wondering why...

_"Daddy!"_ Damian's cry came back to him in a flash of lucidity, and Dick's eyes snapped open. Alongside his memories, a million frantic questions entered his mind: Where was he? Where was his son? Were the kids, Steph, and Wondergirl alright—

"Slow down," a familiar voice chuckled, as he struggled to sit up straight. "See, that's funny, because that's what everyone tells _me."_

Dick froze completely.

_"Wally?"_

"In the flesh." The speedster smirked from he sat aside of his friend, still donning his Flash uniform (the mantle had been handed down to him by his proud uncle, who retired to the simple life of a scientist to focus on raising his twins; and partially, Dick believed, because he'd been discouraged by the disappearance of his grandson, whom he had grown quite attached to).

"Where am I?" asked Dick groggily.

"Mount Justice. The medbay. On a bed," enlightened Wally.

Groaning, Dick swung his legs over the edge of the bed, ignoring the concerned look on his friend's face. His head hurt, most likely from a nasty fall, but that seemed to be the least of his worries. "You wouldn't happen to know how I came to be here, would you?" he

"You passed out from pure exhaustion," Wally deadpanned. He continued, in a casual tone that betrayed his stern expression, "Of course, it's understandable, since you've had your hands full taking care of your _son."_

Dick's mouth went dry. Hearing his body had basically collapsed after being pushed into overdrive was not nearly as disconcerting as learning that his secret was out. Because now he had no idea how to respond, or any will to meet Wally's eyes. He didn't want to see what might be anger in his friend's gaze. "Oh," was all he could say. "You know."

"Well, when Cassie heard the kid call you _Daddy,_ it was a pretty clear indication," Wally went on, looking less than thrilled. "I'm more concerned about why your best friend had to find out about it from _Wondergirl_._"_

Oh, boy. Wally did sound peeved. And who could blame him? Dick had kept his fair share of secrets throughout life, but he'd almost always entrusted them to his best friend, even against his mentor's wishes. Truth be told, he wasn't sure why he had kept Damian from Wally. Regret formed a thick lump in his throat. Things had been tense between he and the speedster during the Invasion, but they were slowly but surely smoothing out the grooves in their relationship.

Hopefully, Dick had not sabotaged that with this one mistake.

"I know, I'm sorry," he began, because what else was there to say? His thoughts were sluggish, and the words on his tongue just didn't seem right, but he had to at least try and explain himself. Wally deserved that much. "You have to understand—"

The sound of the medbay doors _whooshing_ open cut him off. Both of their necks craned in the direction of the entrance; Dick's stomach dropped.

"Batman," he breathed.

"You're awake. Good." The caped crusader crossed his arms, poised like a fearsome judge. "Because you've got some explaining to do."

* * *

Meanwhile, in another part of the Cave, a crowd had gathered around the two newcomers. One was a girl claiming to be a hero. The other, more shockingly, was supposedly _Nightwing's_ _son._ Those who had recently arrived eagerly devoured Cassie's story, before approaching the strangers for themselves. Even those who were no longer a part of the Team, such as Kaldur and Wally, had come to confirm the rumors surrounding their comrade.

"So...are we supposed to just stay here and babysit the kid?" asked Jaime awkwardly. Somebody had to break the ice. Impulse would've been the first to volunteer; a pang of longing hit him at the thought.

_"His_ name is Damian," the girl corrected.

"Then who are you?" Karen questioned.

"I'm Spoiler," she introduced, a smirk twitching at her lips. "A friend of Nightwing's, so to speak."

"He hasn't mentioned you before," said Robin suspiciously.

"I'm new to this vigilante business," Spoiler explained.

From where he stood next to a bored-looking Raven, Gar piped up, "But is Damian... Is he _really_ Nightwing's son?"

"Daddy," Damian demanded for the umpteenth time.

"Yes," Spolier confirmed, casting a look the Atlantean in charge. "Since that's established, can't you let the brat see his father already?"

"Regrettably, I cannot," Kaldur negated. "He's with Batman now. We were told not to disturb."

Spoiler huffed,_ "Fine._ I dare you you say that to the squirt's face, though." With that, she released Damian from his spot on her lap, allowing him to roam at will. He marched right up to Kaldur, knowingly adressing the leader of their group, and met the Atlantean's gaze without fear.

"I want Daddy," he _ordered,_ arms crossed in a very un-toddler like manner.

Kaldur found himself at a loss. The tone this child used was nearly on par with _Batman's_...that, in itself, was impressive.

"I am sorry, Damian, but he is speaking with Batman at the moment. You will have to wait until they finish their discussion."

Under normal circustances, this might have been satisfactory. However, Damian was far from average, and his glare had the ferocity of keenly sharpened daggers; and Kaldur, though years older and having faced some of the fiercest foes known to Earth in his lifetime, felt a trickle of forebode slide down his neck.

"Would you care for something to eat?" M'gann's cheery voice entered the room with impeccable timing. "I have a fresh batch of cookies!" she offered their guests. With a nod from Steph, Damian cautiously took one.

The Martian girl sighed as she watched him eat, even as his face soured at the burnt texture. "Isn't he the cutest lil' thing?"

Gar crouched down in front of the boy, humming. "I don't know about that, sis. That ominous glint in his eyes is anything but cute..." His remark was violently met with a cookie to the face. "OW!"

And since it was Miss Martian's cookie, it packed quite the punch.

From beneath her cloak, Raven snickered, while Beast Boy rubbed his crumby cheek.

"He also has ears," Spoiler chuckled.

"See Daddy _now?" _Damian queried again, sounding increasingly agitated.

Wishing to prevent a full-blown tantrum, Kaldur settled on appeasing the child. "Is there anything else you would like?"

Pacified for the moment, Damian considered it. "Potty," he said finally. When no reply was forthcoming, he scowled and loudly repeated, "Have to go potty!"

Well. None of them had been expecting that kind of request.

"He has to used the bathroom," Raven stated.

"Obviously!" Gar huffed. "But, uh...what do we do about it?"

Spoiler emitted a scoff that sounded a lot like laughter. "Escort him, maybe?"

After the whole cookie fiasco, nobody seemed all that willing to oblige. "I volunteer Cassie," coughed Karen.

"Me? But I'm a girl!" the blonde protested.

"So?" Conner said in earnest confusion.

Cassie scowled. "So? So, you take him!"

"How do boys that young even...ya' know..._reach_ the toilet?" Gar whispered to Jaime, who flushed in embarrassment.

Robin, having overheard the remark, smacked a hand over his face.

"Tt," Damian grumbled impatiently. "Still have to potty!"

"Oh, I'll go!" M'gann relented. Damian didn't bat an eye as he was suddenly levitated into the air and deposited into M'gann's grasp. Arms crossed in annoyance, he gave them all withering looks before Miss Martian glided in the direction of the bathroom.

Spoiler took this moment to fully observe her strange surroundings.

Mal and Karen were contacting someone named 'Barbara' on the computer; Cassie was attempting to explain of the basics of potty-training to Gar; Raven was hanging around in the background, looking broody; Jaime appeared to be conversing with himself; Kaldur was speaking to Conner, each of their expressions a mixture of curiosity and concern; and Robin the Cute Boy Wonder was pinching the bridge of his nose in utter exasperation.

"...I think I'm going to like it here," she declared quite confidently.

* * *

Dick's unease escalated into full-blown anxiety when not only Batman entered the room, but also Black Canary. He wished he could sink down into the bed and fall into a bottomless hole. Maybe then the nervous knot in his stomach would disappear.

Surprisingly, he felt Wally lay a hand on his shoulder for support, and the speedster's presence alone quelled some of Dick's anxiety. It looked like their friendship was still salvageable, after all.

"How are you feeling, Nightwing?" Canary asked kindly.

Dick flashed her a brief smile, shrugging. "Better, I guess."

Batman made a disbelieving noise.

"Well, since that's settled, I suppose we shouldn't beat around the bush," Black Canary went on, shooting her associate a sharp look. Dick couldn't help but feel like part of this dialogue had been rehearsed. "We heard Wondergirl's story, and we need to verify the boy's identity—"

"Damian," Dick interrupted quietly. He could feel three pairs of eyes on him while he spoke, so he averted his own. "His name is Damian. He is Zatanna's son." He swallowed. _"Our_ son."

Frowning, Wally observed, "The kid's at least three, so you only would have been—"

"She hid it from everyone," Dick interjected, although it was pointless. Like Steph, they could to do the math. "I never even knew. Not until I found the note she left me in case she ever died. I wish she would have told me from the beginning, so I could've been there for Damian since day one. As it is, I'm just trying to make up for lost time..."

"That still doesn't explain why you kept it hidden," came Batman's brusque voice, tactful as always.

"I was going to tell everyone eventually," he swore, suddenly feeling very defensive.

His mentor scowled. "Were you? Or were you just going to wait until you fainted again, on another mission, perhaps?"

Dick's own expression mirror the Bat's frustration, and the words that followed were unbidden and fueled by pent-up emotion.

"Yes, I screwed up, okay? I hid my bastard son from the Team and League. I had unprotected sex when I was fifteen and I got a girl pregnant! Is that what you wanted to hear?" Dick steadied his composure with a deep breath. "But I've accepted the consequences of my actions and I'm willing to take responsibility for them now."

"That's very admirable," Canary said gently, and now Dick understood why she'd been sent in alongside the Bat—to play the mediator. "Still, it doesn't excuse the secrecy. Not without good reason. Did you think you or Damian were in any danger?"

"No, I..."

"Hey, but," Wally gracefully intercepted, sparing his friend any further explanation. "What I don't get is... How did Zatanna manage to hide her pregnancy? Stuff like that is a _bit_ difficult to miss."

Thankful for the reprieve, Dick answered, "Remember that one year undercover mission she took three years ago? I think it covered up a lot more than we knew," he added resentfully.

Batman and Canary shared a look. "Who would have authorized that?" she asked aloud.

"I did."

Heads swiveled in the direction of this new voice. To Dick's immense surprise, it belonged to none other than Wonder Woman. _Great! How many other mentors are going to invite themselves in?_

"And you just let her leave? Without telling anyone the truth?" Batman demanded, the corners of his cowl crinkling angrily.

"She came to me in confidence," Wonder Woman elucidated, standing her ground against the dark knight's glare. "She was a scared, _parentless,_ pregnant teenage girl. I wasn't going to betray her trust. She was nervous and ashamed and afraid her crime-fighting career was over. So I sat her down, laid out all her options, and urged her to talk to somebody about it."

"Like the father?" Wally muttered.

The Amazonian's eyes briefly flickered towards he and Nightwing. "She never mentioned who the father was and it wasn't my place to pry. I _did_ advise she inform him of her condition, but she didn't like the idea, so I ultimately let the matter drop."

"Then you authorized the year-long mission so she could hide the pregnancy," Black Canary filled in, putting the pieces together.

Wonder Woman nodded. "And after she had the baby, she placed him in the care of an orphanage. End of story."

"Not end of story," Wally interjected, causing the her to quirk a brow. "More like: To be continued."

_"Flash,"_ scolded Black Canary, indicating that this was not the time for jokes. She re-focused on the boy—no, the _man,_ she had to remind herself, because it was still hard to remember after she'd watched kid grow up, and damn, now he's a _father?_ "Nightwing, the point is, raising a child is a huge commitment, especially doing it alone."

"I've managed these past few weeks," Dick defended.

"Yes. Managed to push yourself to the point of exhaustion," she said dryly. Her tone softened. "It's not a crime to admit you need help."

"Because I'm not qualified to keep my own child?" he bit back.

"Nobody said that," Canary countered, frowning.

"Well, it sure as hell felt implied, since Zatanna never told me I had a kid in the first place," Dick sniped more harshly than he intended.

Silence ensued. For a long moment, nobody spoke, letting the situation simmer between them.

"Leave us alone," Batman finally rumbled, causing Dick to meet his mentor's steely gaze. Wally's eyes bounced between the two of them uncertainly.

"But—"

_"Now."_

Taking the crook of his arm, Dinah led Wally from the room. Wonder Woman followed suit. As the doors slid shut, Dick mentally prepared himself for the lashing of a lifetime. "Go ahead," he murmured resignedly. He tried to repress a flinch when the tirade began.

"What were you thinking? Hiding the fact that you had a child, trying to take of him on your own? Do you realize how much work a child is? Apparently _not,_ because your current condition suggests a blatant lack of rest. When was the last time you even ate?"

Dick could only blink. He'd certainly just received a scolding worthy of Alfred, and yet, those hadn't been the words he expected...

"Um...breakfast?" he answered hesitantly. At Bruce's growl of disapproval, Dick admitted, "Breakfast _yesterday."_

Pinching the bride of his nose, Batman sighed, sounding very tired and old. "What were you thinking, Dick?"

Dick shrugged, his shoulders hunched as if he were an admonished teenager. "I guess I wasn't, really. Not now or back then... I-I just didn't want to be any more of a disappointment than I've been lately."

Batman's voice was sharp when he asked, "What are you talking about?"

White knuckles clenched the bed beneath tight enough hurt.

"I failed," Dick choked out, all the feelings he'd been harboring since the Invasion emptying out of him like a scorching confession. "Zee's dead, Barbara is paralyzed, Bart is _gone,_ and I was supposed to lead them, not lose them!"

"Do you honestly believe that those casualties were a result of your own incompetence? Because that's bull, and you know it." When Dick didn't response, his mentor continued, in a self-depreciating tone, "But if we're going to play the blame game, why not myself? I wasn't even here for you or the Team. I was on Rimbor standing trial for a crime I couldn't even recall. Had I been here for you kids, maybe things wouldn't have ended as they did..."

"Stop it, Bruce," Dick barked, eyeing his mentor seriously. "Don't blame yourself for something that isn't even your fault."

"Nor is it your fault, Richard," Batman snapped. "I didn't raise you to be a martyr. It's time to grow up and face the facts."

Dick startled at the severity of his father's voice.

"Being a leader means not only accepting your mistakes, but recognizing your victories," Bruce spoke, voice no longer "You devised a plan and you took a chance. With this job, there's always a chance of plans going wrong, and each and every hero is aware of it. You fought anyway. You lost people in the process, yet you saved so many more; and you cannot afford to linger on those you lost when there are kids still here, kids who need you to lead them now."

"So, I'm not allowed to mourn? I have to keep going through the motions until somebody it's me who falls apart?" said Dick bitterly.

"Dick, son," Bruce trailed off, before finding his nerve. "You could torture yourself over your failures every day, brood on them, never let them go. That's what Batman does. But I've always wanted something better for you. I want you to admit your doubts and be open with me. So that these wounds don't become your battle scars—so that you have the chance to heal."

"You want the truth?" asked Dick quietly, after taking a moment to digest those words. "The truth is, I'm scared. This isn't just a teammate I'm responsible for; this is a child. And I'm afraid that if I bring him into this life—I don't want to—I want to do right by my son."

A firm hand laid itself atop his shoulder. "I wish I could and say that it's easy protecting those you love from all the bad in the world. Unfortunately, it's not only a lie—it's impossible." Bruce gave him the ghost of smile. "Although I am proud of you for trying."

"Proud of me?" exclaimed Dick. "I thought you'd be disappointed."

"I'm disappointed that you didn't come to me as soon as you found out about Damian." Bruce "Maybe I should've figured it out, anyway. I know I've been distant lately...buried in my work, trying to cope with our recent losses as much as you are. Perhaps that's where I went wrong." "But I'm here for you now, Dick. Everyone is willing to help. The question is, are you willing to let us?"

Weary blue eyes searched a shadowed, older pair. Unlike when he was younger, his father's eyes didn't seem hold all the answers. If anything, they looked as lost as his own. Nevertheless, they did hold promise, sincerity, and above all, affection. Right now, that was all Dick needed to push back his insecurities and accept the assistance his surrogate family was so graciously offering. A family which Damian deserved to be loved by, too.

"Yeah, I am," he agreed, sporting a smile. "To be honest, this parenting business is a lot harder than it looks."

* * *

Ugh, I'm not happy with this chapter, nothing I wrote for it seemed right. Which sucks, since I know how anticipated it was. Aw, well. I hope you readers enjoyed, anyway. At least it had a) father/son moment b) Wally! c) psychiatrist!Canary and d) Team banter!

Next chapter shall be up soon, so until then, leave me your feedback below~


	9. Carry On

_**Sorry for the long wait, everyone! **_

All I can say is that Real Life sucks, especially when it involves busy holidays, school assignments, four finals, standardized tests, and Mock Trial practice. Also, I've recently been sucked into an obsession with The Hobbit fandom. I saw it twice in theaters because it's _amazing._ Martin Freeman is as superb as he in Sherlock and Richard Armitage is so majestic...*drools* Anyway, I hope everyone had happy holidays while I was burrowed in my hobbit hole!

Thank you so much to** everyone **who reviewed! It is your kind words, encouragement, favorites and follows that make this story possible!

Disclaimer: I tried asking Santa for ownership this year. Unfortunately, it looks like I made the naughty list...

* * *

_**Carry On**_

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After their heart-to-heart in the Medbay, Dick decided that it was high time for him to face the music. Or at the very least, see his son.

"Damian _is_ okay, isn't he?" were the first words that left his lips as Batman insisted on helping him stand. The world wobbled a bit uncertainly for a moment or so, but it soon passed. "I didn't have a chance to look him over earlier."

"He's fine," Bruce assured, a steadying hand lingering on his ward's shoulder.

"Good," Dick murmured softly.

"Now that we're on the same page, do you mind if I ask you a question?" asked Bruce, speaking more as a father than a mentor. Dick nodded obligingly.

"Sure. Shoot."

"How do you plan on supporting the boy—Damian?" A subsequent question occurred to the Dark Knight. "How have you been doing it thus far?"

Dick gnawed at his lower lip, debating on how he should answer. "I met with Mr. Haly a few weeks ago, and he gave me access to an account my parents made in my name. I've been using that, but I don't want to suck it dry, not after all the work my family put into it."

If Bruce was bothered by the fact that he had accepted help from Jack Haly before himself, it didn't show. "You're going to have to find a job," he deadpanned.

"I know," Dick acknowledged. It went without saying, but he'd been so wrapped up with other things lately that he hadn't really given the matter much thought. "I was thinking of applying for this bartending job in—"

_"No."_

It was such a flat out refusal that Dick had to blink back the initial shock before he recognized the tone of his adopted father's voice. He'd most often heard it in his Robin days, usually when he wanted to do something the Bat deemed too dangerous or even too possibly dangerous for his bird.

"No?" he echoed exasperatedly. "Bruce. I'm a fully grown adult, it pays perfectly well, and I don't see the prob—"

"You can start working at Wayne Tech on Monday. I'll email Lucius and have the arrangements made tonight."

Once again, Dick found himself at an utter loss. "You're offering me a _job?"_

His guardian nodded, voice airy when he went on, "Doesn't sound too difficult, does it? You seem to know your way around a computer."

The corners of Dick's mouth quirked up. "I think so, yes," he agreed. After that, their walk continued in comfortable silence.

"Now," Batman began, back to business as usual, the earlier traces of humor gone for the moment. "About the girl. Who is she, really?"

Dick had wondered how long it would take for the Dark Knight approach that particular subject. "Her name is Stephanie Brown. She's the daughter of Arthur Brown, better known as a C-rank Gotham villain, Cluemaster." Of course he'd gone digging into Steph's background; he was a Bat, after all. But some information can only be gained through experience. "She's a good kid, Bruce, who only wants to do some right in the world."

"Is she trustworthy?"

"My instincts say yes, and her actions have not proven otherwise," Dick affirmed, before taking the plunge: "I think we should give her a chance on the team. With a little more training, she has the potential to be great."

There was a long, excruciating silence in which his mentor digested the idea, tore it apart with his mind, dissecting each and every pro and con as a detective would any case; all the while, the only sound in the hall was their echoing footsteps.

"Probationary member," Batman acceded at last. Composure and lingering drowsiness were what kept Dick from cheering aloud at the victory. "We'll give her a chance. What she does with that chance is entirely up to her."

"Guess I better go deliver the good news," said Dick, nearly giddy as he envisioned Steph's reaction. "Is she still with Damian? I remember her holding him before I blacked out..."

"As far as I know, they're together and waiting for you, along with the rest of the team."

Imagining Damian pitted against his teammates brought an unbidden grin to Dick's face.

"Oh, boy. I hope he hasn't terrorized them _too_ bad."

Beneath the cowl, a dark eyebrow rose at his remark. "What do you mean by that?"

Dick sent his mentor a sly look. "Let's just say, personality wise, Damian resembles a younger, cuter..._Batman._ Scary scowl included."

While his adopted father contemplated this new tidbit of information, Dick pondered how the team was taking to Steph and vice-versa. Honestly, he hoped they were all getting along, especially if Spoiler did someday become a permanent addition to the team.

* * *

They walked in on an interesting scene.

"Nice costume," Robin complimented, awkwardly attempting small talk. "Purple your favorite color?"

"Purple?" Spoiler bristled. "Are you blind? This is _eggplant._ Obviously."

Gar and Jaime snorted. Cassie laughed. Robin's cheeks went pink. "Er, sorry?"

"It's fine. Just get your colors straight next time," Spoiler nodded. Dick watched on in amusement, pleased to see somebody get such a reaction from his uptight little brother. His amusement was short-lived, however, when he and Batman's sudden appearance garnered everyone's full attention.

Predictably, Wally was the first at his side. "Are we okay?" he asked quietly, eyes darting between his best friend and the Dark Knight.

"Yeah, we're cool," assured Dick, smiling slightly. "Everything's been explained."

"Good, 'cause I'd like an explanation," Cassie piped up, a hand balanced on her hip.

"Me, too," echoed Gar, arms crossed.

"Ditto," said Jaime.

Dick scanned the crowd of teenagers and young adults with a sinking stomach. The only person who didn't stare back at him expectantly was Raven, who's neutral expression seemed to say, 'You're on your own, sorry.' And he'd had no time to prepare for this confrontation, no idea what to say.

But before he could even gather the wits to begin, Karen spoke up.

"Zee really did have a kid? Without any of us knowing?" she asked, her voice small and sad.

Sympathetically, Dick nodded. "I was just as surprised to hear it myself."

"How long have you known?" demanded Robin.

"A few weeks," he confessed, unable to meet his little brother's expression of betrayal.

Superboy mouth formed a taut line. "First, the undercover operation nobody but you, Artemis, Wally, and Kaldur were included in—now this? Is it so hard to share a secret with your teammates once in a while?"

_Ouch._

The comment cut pretty deep, although Dick tried not to let it show. He sensed more than saw the tensing of both Kaldur and Wally's postures, their duplicity still fresh in everyone's minds. Not willing to have them suffer through another bout of berating because of _his_ mistake, Dick schooled his features and squared his shoulders.

"This is a bit more complicated than that," he began tentatively. "Damian barely knew me at all, and I was his _father._ He needed time to adjust to this new life, while I—well." He gestured helplessly. "I am sorry I kept it a secret as long as I did. I really am. I just wanted some time to get know my son before I had to share his attention with everyone else...that's all."

Silence met this admission, and Dick left it to settle, knowing that now was the time to wait. He hated the waiting, the wondering, the fear of rejection and the anxiety that welled in his stomach as he was forced to be patient. But he had no right to rush this, not after the weeks of lying and hiding. No, the teammates he would gladly fight beside or take a bullet for deserved this time to think, and he'd be damned if he stole it from them.

"Well, I suppose that's as good a reason as any," Superboy eventually sighed. Dick released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. If Conner was willing to forgive, after everything that had happened and been hidden from him, then the rest of the team would be easily won.

"Really?"

The clone nodded. "It makes sense, in a way. Being in a completely new world, surrounded by strange new people...I've been there before. So, I guess I can understand."

"Thanks, Kon," Dick said genuinely. Conner's lips curved slightly in reciprocation.

As his intuition suspected, the rest of the team warmed up fairly quickly after that, letting their anger dissipate in favor of curiosity. Dick answered as many questions about his newfound parenthood as he could, the bombardment feeling like a strange, welcome retribution. The last person to approach was his stern-faced little brother.

"So. Keeping a secret son not very much fun in the long run, is it?" Robin remarked wryly.

"Yeah," smirked Dick. "Forgive me?"

Robin mock sighed. "Well, it's going to take some getting used to... But the least you could have done was told me I was going to be an uncle! I could have been better prepared."

Dick beamed unabashedly. If Tim was willing to joke, it meant he wasn't harboring any ill-will, which did wonders for his older brother's mood. "Sorry, bro," he chuckled, looping an arm around Robin's shoulders. "Next time I find out I fathered an illegitimate child, you'll be the first to receive a memo."

The two of them laughed, happy to have the matter resolved. Neither noticed Miss Martian reentering the room or the little boy with her until...

_"Daddy!" _Dick heard, and he spun at a speed that would've made the Flash envious.

Pure, joyous relief flooded him at the sight of his son, safe and unharmed. It was one thing to be told that your child was fine, but it didn't compare to confirming it with your own eyes. Dick ignored the looks of surprise from his teammates and mentor, instead focusing on the small boy, whom he gladly accepted an embrace from. He must have been in terrible shape before, because Damian usually wasn't so affectionate in public.

"Hey, buddy," he said happily, smiling into his son's dark locks. "Miss me much?"

Wordlessly, Damian pulled back and appraised his father seriously. "Daddy okay?"

"I'm fine," Dick reassured. "I just needed a reeally long nap. Now I'm all better, see? But where were you just now?"

"On a bathroom break," M'gann inserted. Since the Martian girl had been away during their conversation, Dick resigned himself to repeating his earlier apology.

"M'gann, I..."

"Don't worry. I already heard everything. Telepathic powers, remember?" she said before he could even find the words, smiling benevolently. "Apology accepted."

He returned the gesture with equal cheer. Seemed like his luck was finally improving.

"Have you guys introduced yourselves yet?" wondered Dick aloud. When Robin shook his head, he beckoned his brother closer, wanting him to be the first Damian formally met.

Dismayed upon seeing his father and the Boy Wonder huddled together, Damian scowled with such ferocity that Robin was taken aback.

Dick simply shrugged, as if this happened all the time. "Be nice, Damian. This is Daddy's younger brother, Robin. That makes him your uncle."

Robin smiled at the tot and held out his hand. Damian glared at it defiantly.

"Mine," he claimed out-of-the-blue.

"Mine?" Robin repeated, confused.

_"No._ My daddy," Damian corrected, clinging to his father tightly. Dick's beam could've rival the sun. He never realized how amazing it would feel to have Damian claim him as his father so vehemently, even if it was only out of childish jealously.

Robin retracted his hand bemusedly. "He isn't one for sharing, is he?"

"We're working on it," the older brother sighed. Moving on to the next member of the clan present, Dick approached the silent Dark Knight, who was assessing Damian with a multitude of masked emotions that he couldn't even begin to decipher.

"Damian, this is Daddy's mentor and father, Batman." Impulsively, Dick plopped Damian into his mentor's unready arms, and then stepped back to see what would happen. He thought of his bedtimes stories and the Bat plushie laying in Damian's bed at home, wondering if his son would make the connection.

"Batman," Damian muttered, and his tone was far from reverent—although he did seem reluctantly impressed. Nonetheless, it was as if he held a grudge against the caped crusader, judging by the way his hard stare was boring into Batman's cowl. And Batman stared right back. Not many could withstand such a contest, yet Damian was remarkably impervious to the infamous gaze. It was possibly the most intriguing interaction Dick had ever seen.

"Why is he glaring at me like that?" Batman finally grumbled.

Sheepishly, Kaldur stepped in, "Damian was most persistent in seeing his father, so I, well, told him he could not interrupt while you two were talking..."

Dick and Steph simultaneously snorted. "I'm torn between thinking this is adorable or terrifying," she stuttered.

"With Batman, it's always hard to tell." Arching an eyebrow in her direction, he said, "So, _Spoiler,_ is it?"

The eggplant-clad heroine let out a nervous chuckle. "What can I say, sensei? I'm a natural."

"But not an expert," Batman said, as he broke the staring contest with Damian to shoot a firm look in Steph's direction. "You'll have to train a lot more and a lot harder in the meantime. Until then, you aren't allowed to patrol without either my or Nightwing's permission, and you're not to patrol alone. At all. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir," Spoiler squeaked.

"Well, I guess some formal introductions are in order, now," Dick declared. Retrieving his son from his father's arms, he looked at the boy and said, "Damian, these are the people Daddy told you about, the ones he works with."

Damian gazed up at him in question. "Heroes?"

"Exactly," Dick replied with a smile, before turning his attention to the heroes in question. "Team, this is my son: Damian Wayne Grayson."

* * *

Once again, I'm not entirely satisfied with this chapter. But I promise not to disappear for another month and a half, as I already have the majority of the next chapter written, and I have a feeling you'll like that one. It'll be the calm before the storm, because by Chapter 11, the plot might intrude upon all this lovely father/son fluffiness.

So, if anyone is still out there? Remember to read, review, and enjoy!


	10. Vulnerability

This chapter is mostly fluff, with a touch of plot at the end. Sorry about the wait, again, but you can blame new semester classes, which includes the current bane of my existence: _Math!_ Ugh, I miss English... Still, thank you to **everyone** who reviewed last chapter!

Also, some reviewers have mentioned the line at the end of the story, where when Damian was introduced Dick used his last name, thus implying that the team either knew his civilian identity or were just learning it. To be honest, I hadn't even realized that until they brought it to my attention. Hehe^^ For the sake of the story, and the fact that I'm too lazy to go back and change the previous chapter, let's say that after the Invasion, Nightwing finally came clean about his secret identity. After all the secret-keeping he's been doing in the second season, I could see it as being a way to show that he trusts his team. Either way, Tim's identity still remains a secret, as he is a minor and under Batman's mentorship.

Disclaimer: Never owned, never will.

* * *

**_Vulnerability_**

**_._**

**_._**

**_._**

**_._**

A week later, a refreshed Nightwing entered the Zeta beam with a spring in his step and Damian in his arms. More sleep and less malnourishment did wonders for a single parent. With all his skeletons out of the closet and his ghosts put to rest, Dick was reaping the benefits of having a supportive team, who rose to the challenge of helping him with his son with an unexpected enthusiasm.

Sure, Damian was a tough nut to crack, but gradually he got used to the countless new people in his life (it was facilitated by the fact that he already knew and trusted Dick). He even tolerated most of them, which was a feat in itself. He particularly enjoyed Bruce and Conner's company, which was probably because Batman was the epitome of cool, and Conner allowed the tot to use his indestructible body as a personal jungle-gym. But it was Jaime—the prophesized bane of the human race—who was the best babysitter out of the bunch. Probably because he already looked after a little sister of his own.

Tonight, Raven and Gar (who were getting quite cozy with each other, Dick noted triumphantly) had promised to keep an eye on Damian later while he patrolled. He was anxious to be out on his own again, since Batman had practically ordered him to take it slow for the last seven days. Now that Damian was more familiar with the Cave, they could even spend the night without having to worry about the hassles of civilian travel.

When they arrived, he was pleased to find Wally waiting there for him, a half-eaten sandwich in hand.

"Hey, dude," the speedster called, inhaling the rest of his snack before zooming over. "Hello to you, too, squirt."

"Dummy," Damian greeted. Whether it was his son's resentment toward being treated like a child or Wally's slight mortification with the boy's violent mannerisms, Damian regarded his best friend with a particular rancor. And Dick may or may not have found their verbal spars too amusing to stop.

"No, squirt, we talked about this. I'm Wally," Wally corrected.

"Dummy," Damian deadpanned.

The speedster's eyes narrowed into suspicious slits. "Dick, are you sure you didn't conceive the antichrist?" He peered into Damian's face, as if searching for physical proof of his evilness. "If he wasn't so puny and cute, I'd take a scissors to his head and find out."

"Dummies no allowed scissors," snorted Damian. Wally opened his mouth furiously, about to reply—

"Wow, Baywatch. Picking fights with two-year-olds, now?" said Artemis as she entered, giving her boyfriend's ear a playful flick.

"Feeling better, Artie?" asked Dick, grinning at their antics. "Heard you missed all the hubbub 'cause you had a little stomach bug."

"Unfortunately, yes. Some stupid virus was going around my class," Artemis sighed, before settling her sharp eyes on him. "I'm much better, now, though. What about you, Grayson? You didn't look too great when they brought you in, either."

"I'm as aster as can be, thank you," he answered honestly. "All I needed was a little nourishment, a little rest, and a little codding courtesy of Alfred," added Dick with a dreamy look. Nothing was as soothing as Alfred's morning pancakes, evening suppers, and in between servings of milk and cookies...

"You took Damian to the manor? How'd that go?" Wally inquired.

"Pretty well, actually. He seemed to have an immediate respect for Alfred, but that may be because his cooking proved to be infinitely better than my own," Dick noted sourly. "And you would not believe how hard it was to tear him away from the Batcave."

"Bruce let the mini-monster into the Batcave?!"

Dick snorted. _"Let?_ Damian found the secret entrance and invited himself inside." At that, the couple burst out laughing.

Afterwards, Artemis shook her head. "You've got your hands full, huh? And I thought Lian was trouble on two-legs."

"Don't be absurd," Dick balked. "Lian is an angel."

"Of course you would say that, _Uncle Dick," _Artemis rolled her eyes "Here comes the little angel now."

True to her word, the computer's voice rang out _"Recognized: Red Arrow, B06"_ as Roy Harper stepped out of the Zeta beam, dressed in his civvies and clutching a baby bag over one arm, while holding Lian with the other. Dick blinked at their unannounced arrival.

"What's this? Did I miss the memo for the _Superhero Dads Anonymous_ meeting?"

"I call it a playdate," Artemis said dryly.

"Hey, Nightwing," Roy drawled. "I heard you spawned an illegitimate son. Way to go."

Taking on an equally sarcastic tone, Dick said, "Aw, thanks. Did you bring your spawn over to play with mine?"

The clone's lips curled into a smirk. "That was the plan, yeah. Us single, superhero dads have to stick together, right?"

At those words, Dick softened with sympathy. Whatever remained of Jade and Roy's relationship had disintegrated during the Invasion. Worst of all, it ended with Jade deciding to return to a life of crime, leaving Roy no choice but to become a single father. Although it had been spoken in humor, Dick thought that maybe the archer meant a little more when he said they should stick together. To a fellow father, they seemed more like words of comfort.

"Right," agreed Dick, coughing to clear the sudden tightness of his throat. "C'mon, let's introduce these two."

Picking a spot on the floor, Roy spread out a blanket and poured some toys overtop of it, creating a small play area. Then he lowered Lian onto the ground, and Dick followed suit. The toddlers stared at each other, narrowed blue eyes meeting blinking grey.

"Lian, this is Damian," Roy told his daughter.

"Damian, that's Lian. She's a friend." Lowering his voice to a whisper, Dick added, "Play nice, _please?"_

"Tt," Damian huffed, which was in no way a promise. Dick watched him sit across from Lian warily.

"Maybe Raquel could bring Amistad by, too. He's around Lian's age," Wally suggested.

"I haven't been in touch with her recently," said Artemis. "Things with her and Noble are...messy, to say the least."

"Sounds like the honeymoon is over," commented Roy with a frown.

"Before it even began," she sighed.

"I don't believe it," Waly said suddenly, his eyes locked on the children.

_Don't tell me,_ Dick groaned, mentally preparing himself for the sight of his son terrorizing another child. The sight that greeted him, however, was entirely unexpected. For instead of a scene of struggle, Lian and Damian were sitting across from each other, playing with the toys, a string of mostly incoherent babble going back and forth between them.

For a moment, Dick wondered if he had spontaneously crossed dimensions.

"...are they actually getting along?" he asked uncertainly.

"I am shocked," agreed Artemis, awestruck.

"Heh. It's 'cause my baby girl doesn't take crap from anybody," Roy said smugly.

"I sense a life-long friendship in the making," Wally remarked nostalgically, throwing an arm over his best friend's shoulder. "Brings back memories, doesn't it?"

Dick rolled his eyes.

Unfortunately, the euphoria was short-lived. In the midst of the adults' conversation, the noises of play became noises of battle. Before Dick could even swivel around to see what was going on, the two were rolling around on the floor, wrestling like a pair of wolf cubs.

Artemis immediately got up to intervene, yelling, "Hey, no fighting, squirts!"

"Relax, they're just play-wrestling," Roy placated. Although Dick had a sinking suspicion that his nonchalant attitude could be attributed to the fact that Lian seemed to be winning the "playful" tussle.

"Yeah, they'll be great friends," Dick said to Wally, whose eyes were trained on the tumbling toddlers. "If they don't kill each other first."

* * *

When they left the Cave the following evening, Nightwing heard the unmistakable sound of a jewelry store alarm pierce the air. Frowning, he looked across the street in search of the perpetrator, only to catch sight of a familiar feline thief.

"Catwoman," sighed Nightwing. "Of course. I can't ever go home without first having to face an unforeseen mini-crisis, can I?"

Damian blinked at his father like he was insane.

"Right," he muttered, and leapt onto a nearby fire escape of an abandoned apartment building. Truthfully, he would have liked nothing better than to ignore the blaring alarm and head home—however, this was Catwoman, who could easily escape well before the police arrived, and Dick's woefully strong sense of responsibility refuse to let him leave it at that.

His moral compass gave rise to another pressing dilemma, though: _What was he to do with Damian?_

Nightwing thought of what Wally would say, and considered tying Damian there like a dog. But no, that wasn't a very adult thing to do. Neither was leaving a child unattended, really, but it was safer than bringing him along. After what happened at the daycare with the hostages, Nightwing didn't want Damian anywhere near that type of violence again.

"Okay, Damian, Daddy will be right back. I need you to stay right here until I do," Nightwing ordered, knowing damn well that his son understood every word. He could tell by the way Damian's face scrunched up unhappily, angry at being left behind. _"Stay_. Don't move. I will be right back."

And he would. He would return in five minutes flat, if he could help it. Damian would be safe, Catwoman caught, and they would go home. Simple as that.

If only.

* * *

Catwoman stalked across the roof with the gait of a victorious tigress. She held the proof of her victory up to the fading sunlight, admiring the way her haul sparkled and gleamed.

"Oh, yes, I think these will make a _purr_fect addition to my collection," she murmured to herself.

"Scratch that, Catwoman," an annoying familiar yet charming voice denied. "Hand over the jewels and I'll make sure you receive three servings of meow mix a day. In jail," Nightwing added, flipping into her path with an admirable grace.

The villainess smirked at the former Boy Wonder—while he had certainly grown into a dashing young hero who was not to be underestimated, he was still easier to deal with than his mentor (although she wouldn't have minded a little cat-and-mouse with the big, bad Bat).

"Oh, come on, little bird. When you were younger you always had the cutest little giggle, manic but boyish. It was really quite endearing. I miss it." Her lips curved. "How about we share a laugh for old time's sake?"

"How about I arrest you for old time's sake?" he retorted.

Catwoman hissed. "Well. Nice to see that your sense of humor hasn't suffered with age."

"Thank you," Nightwing grinned. This would be easy, he decided. Catwoman was a master thief, but not much of a challenge in terms of fighting, not for a seasoned vigilante like him. Unfortunately, when did the universe ever make things easy for Nightwing?

"Aww, isn't that precious," Catwoman suddenly cooed, derailing Nightwing's train of thought. "The baby bird has his own little sidekick now."

"What?" he demanded, confused.

"You better be careful, though, because baby birds aren't the best at flying," she continued on, and against his better judgment, Nightwing turned to follow her line of vision and saw _Damian walking across the ledge of the building he had left him on._

And he watched in horror as the little boy lost his balance and hurtled towards the unforgiving ground below.

_"Damian!"_

Cold, unrelenting terror seized his stomach. Without a second thought, Nightwing plunged after him, ignoring the tear and blood-stained memories of what happened to his family all those years ago, not noticing how Catwoman watched him jump with thoughtful eyes.

Nightwing's speed and agility served him well; he caught Damian well above the ground, crushed the little boy to him in a hasty embrace, and dropped onto his feet in bone-crushing relief. For a moment, he just held his son, waiting for his heart to stop stuttering inside his chest and resisting the urge to cry.

"Jesus, Damian, you scared Daddy half to death!" he rasped tremulously, more out of fear than rage. "When I say to stay put, young man, I mean _stay put!_ Don't ever run off like that again, especially on a rooftop! That's dangerous, and you could have been hurt!"

"Sorry," Damian mumbled miserably. Looking up, Dick was honestly surprised—if not a bit ashamed—to see the tell-tale signs of tears in his son's eyes. Although his scolding was well-deserved, Dick felt more responsible for this mess than anyone. Ultimately, it was his own fault for leaving Damian alone, even if it hadn't been for that long. Realizing how close he'd come to losing his son, he hugged Damian tight, laying a lingering kiss upon the crown of the tot's head.

"It's okay, Damian, Daddy's not mad anymore. Just promise me that you'll never, _ever_ do that again."

"Promise," the little boy acquiesced. "Wanted to fight bad guys," he mumbled into his father's collar, as if in explanation.

"I know," Dick sighed, patting his son's head. "But it's Daddy's job to fight bad guys, okay? Not yours." Feeling very tired and resigned, he said, "Let's go home."

When they returned to the rooftop, the thief was nowhere in sight. _Figures,_ Dick thought. _My kid falls off a building, and the criminal gets away. Nice job, Grayson._

"Daddy?"

"Yes, Damian?"

"Kitty," stated Damian. Puzzled, Dick looked at his son, who was looking elsewhere and pointing to another part of the roof. "Kitty!"

Sure enough, there was a pure black, green-eyed kitten perched on the ledge of the building, wearing the string of jewels Catwoman had been intent on stealing.

Dick stared at small animal, baffled.

Attached to the cat was a note:

_Nightwing,_

_ Thought I'd cut you a break, seeing as how we go way back, and that you apparently have your own bat brat to deal with now. Tell Grandpa I said hello, and keep the kitten for the kid._

_-Catwoman_

"Huh. How about that, son?" muttered Nightwing. He carefully plucked the jewels off the kitten's neck and scratched behind its ear. The furry stray purred happily, as his son stared at it in fascination. "Looks like you've got a new pet."

With hopeful eyes, Damian pointed down at the cat. "Mine?"

Nightwing smiled. "Yours."

* * *

Unbeknownst to Nightwing, Catwoman, or even little Damian, their entire interaction had been carefully monitored by a spy. In the shadows of a building across the street, a lone figured perched upon a gargoyle with a set of binoculars in hand, watching the hero and his charge depart. She convinced her cold, traitorous heart that the sight meant nothing to her, not even as it brought fleeting imagers of her own child to mind.

Shaking herself of these memories, the spy put down her binoculars and pulled out her communication device.

"Target located and secured. Should I move in?" she reported into it.

The smooth, commanding voice on the other end intoned, "Negative, Cheshire. You've done your job well. Wait for further orders."

"Yes, sir," Cheshire replied, clicking the communication device off. Her masked face belied no emotion, no humanity. She backed away, disappearing into the depths of the shadows once more.

* * *

The Liam and Damian interaction is something I've been itching to write ever since this story began. I adore it so much. The part with Catwoman turned out okay, too, I think (Damian+kitten=adorableness). As for the last part—what did I tell you? Seems the plot has found its way into my cuddly tale. Tune in next time to see where it leads~


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